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LIBRARY 

UNIVERSli V  OF  CALIFORUm 

RIVERSIDE 


JORN   UHL 


THE    WORKS    OF 

GUSTAV     FRENSSEN 

JORN  UHL,  cloth,  i2mo,  I1.50 

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DANA  ESTES  &  CO.,  Publishers 
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f fiA/i/in/iAj  xj  jv^ 


ir^TiT^^ 


JORN  UHL 

By    GUSTAV    FRENSSEN 

Translated   by   V.    S.   DELMER 


BOSTON   ^    DANA    ESTES   & 
COMPANY   ^   PUBLISHERS 

LONDON    *    ARCHIBALD     CON- 
STABLE &  COMPANY,  LTD.  *  1905 


Copyright,  igoj 
By  Dana  Estes  &  Company 


Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall 


All  rights  reserved 


JORN    UHL 

First  printing,  April,  igo^ 

Second  printing,  May,  igoj 

Third printifig,  July,  igo§ 


COLONIAL   PRESS 

Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  C.  H .  Simonds  (Sr*  Ce. 

Boston',  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


PREFATORY   NOTE 


GusTAVE  Frenssen,  the  author  of  "  Jorn  Uhl,"  was  born  in 
the  remote  village  of  Barlt,  in  Holstein,  North  Germany,  on 
October  19,  1863.  His  father  is  a  carpenter  in  this  village, 
and,  according  to  the  church  register,  the  Frenssen  family  has 
lived  there  as  long  as  ever  such  records  have  been  kept  in  the 
parish. 

In  spite  of  his  father's  humble  circumstances,  Gustave 
Frenssen  managed  to  attend  the  Latin  School  at  the  neigh- 
boring town  of  Husum,  and  in  due  time  became  a  student  of 
theology.  He  heard  courses  of  lectures  at  various  universities, 
passed  the  necessary  examinations,  and  finally,  after  long  years 
of  waiting,  was  appointed  to  the  care  of  souls  in  the  little 
Lutheran  pastorate  of  Hemme  in  Holstein.  Here  within  sound 
of  the  North  Sea,  and  under  the  mossy  thatch  of  the  old- 
fashioned  manse,  he  wrote  his  first  two  books,  "  Die  Sandgrafin  ' 
and  "  Die  Jrei  Getreuen."  These  two  novels  remained  almost 
unknown  until  after  the  publication  of  "JdrnUhl"  in  1902. 
This  book  took  Germany  by  storm.  Its  author,  much  to  his 
own  surprise,  **  awoke  one  morning  to  find  himself  famous." 
All  Germany  was  asking  who  he  was  and  where  he  lived.  His 
homespun  and  drowsy  congregation  of  rustics  suddenly  found 
themselves  elbowed  out  of  their  little  kirk  every  Sabbath  to 
make  room  for  the  curious  literary  pilgrims  that  flocked  there 
from  all  parts   of  the  country  to   see  this  man   who  had  so 


vi  PREFATORY    NOTE 

touched  the  heart  of  Germany,  and  the  piles  of  letters  that  the 
village  postman  every  day  brought  to  the  manse  were  almost  a 
scandal  in  the  simple  hamlet. 

But  Frenssen's  books  had  aroused  much  hostility  among 
the  orthodox  church  party,  and  in  1903  the  poet-preacher  gave 
up  his  pastorate  and  retired  to  the  beloved  and  homely  Holstein 
village  of  his  youth,  henceforth  a  free  man,  to  devote  himself 
to  literature. 

Little  need  here  be  said  about  the  fierce  battles  of  criticism 
that  have  raged  around  this  book.  The  admirers  of  the  French 
novel  smile  condescendingly  at  what  they  dub  its  "  deliciously 
superannuated "  style,  looking  upon  its  author  as  a  kind  of 
Richardson  born  by  some  freak  of  anachronism  into  the  age  of 
Ibsen  and  Hauptmann.  "  But,"  answer  Frenssen's  admirers, 
*'  this  book  has  sprung  from  the  deep  consciousness  of  modern 
Germany  and  utters  the  longings,  thoughts,  and  aspirations  of 
the  German  heart  in  a  way  that  no  other  modern  book  has 
done.  It  is  a  living  book ;  it  is  a  book  so  throbbing  with  real 
life,  passion,  and  poetry,  that  we  overlook  in  it  those  epic 
liberties  of  narrative  on  account  of  which  your  pedantic  critics 
so  damn  it." 

Jorn  Uhl,  the  peasant  hero  of  this  book,  might  stand  for  a 
great  part  of  modern  Germany,  and  that  by  no  means  the 
worse  part.  If  Germany  has  anywhere  a  claim  to  autoch- 
thonous art  in  her  modern  literature,  it  is  here.  The  book  has, 
moreover,  appealed  to  modern  Germany  in  somewhat  the  same 
way  as  Dickens  appealed  to  the  England  of  his  day,  and  it  is 
the  first  time  that  this  can  be  said  of  any  German  novel. 
That  the  impression  made  on  the  English  reader  will  be  eoually 
strong  is  of  course  hardly  to  be  expected ;  yet  the  translator 
hopes  that  the  English  version  of  the  book  will  not  only  prove 
interesting  as  a  picture  of  a  homelier  and,  if  you  will,  less 
pampered  culture  than  that  of  England,  but  that  it  will  stand 
even  in  a  translation  as  a  book  of  real  human  worth,   as  a 


PREFATORY    NOTE  vii 

sincere  criticism  of  life,  and  a  poet's  interpretation  of  the  life 
of  man  and  the  wonder  of  the  universe  of  God. 

A  word  of  warning  ought,  perhaps,  to  be  addressed  to  English 
readers  of  the  book.  After  the  tragic  notes  struck  in  the 
opening  chapter  there  is  a  sudden  and  unexpected  change  to 
an  altogether  different  key,  which  to  many  will  no  doubt  prove 
disconcerting.  The  big  effects  are  only  reached  toward  the 
middle  of  the  book,  and  needless  to  say  a  thorough  enjoyment 
of  them,  even  of  the  Tolstoi-like  picture  of  the  battle  of  Grave- 
lotte,  presupposes  an  acquaintance  with  all  the  foregoing 
chapters.  A  second  reading  will  reconcile  us  to  much  that  at 
first  glance  seemed  arbitrary  and  inartistic  in  the  development 
of  the  story  It  is  indeed,  as  if  Frenssen  wantonly  turns  from 
the  theory  that  a  novel  should  be  drama  written  out  in  full,  and 
claims  the  liberties  of  an  epic  poet  in  the  treatment  of  his 
subject. 

One  further  remark  may  be  permitted.  For  good  or  ill^ 
throughout  the  whole  book  there  run  punning  allusions  to  the 
names  of  the  two  Frisian  families  that  play  a  part  in  the  story 
—  the  Uhls  and  the  Grays.  It  must  be  born  in  mind,  therefore, 
that  Uhl  =  owl,  and  Gray  =  crow. 

Although  the  Low  German  dialect  is  used  but  very  sparsely 
in  the  original,  the  Doric  note  being  chiefly  felt  in  the  general 
style  —  the  primitive  use  of  the  tenses,  for  example  —  the 
translator  has  nevertheless  taken  the  liberty  of  employing 
Scotch  expressions  here  and  there  to  suggest  the  provincial  and 
rustic  atmosphere  of  the  story.  f.  s.  d. 

Berlin,  tgo^. 


•  • 


JORN    UHL 


CHAPTER   I. 

In  this  book  we  are  going  to  speak  about  Life,  and  Life's 
travail  and  trouble.  Not  the  sort  of  trouble  that  mine  host  Jan 
Tortsen  made  for  himself  when  he  promised  to  set  a  wonderful 
Eider  fish  before  his  guests  and  couldn't  keep  his  word,  and 
then  took  it  so  to  heart  that  he  grew  crazy  and  had  to  go  into 
the  madhouse.  Not  the  sort  of  trouble,  either,  that  that  rich 
farmer's  son  went  to,  who,  for  all  his  stupidity,  managed  to 
learn  to  play  ducks  and  drakes  with  his  father's  crown  pieces  to 
such  good  purpose,  that  he  got  through  the  whole  of  his  inher- 
itance in  a  single  month. 

No,  but  of  that  sort  of  trouble  shall  we  speak  which  old 
Mother  Whitehead  had  in  mind,  when  she  came  to  tell  of  her 
eight  children,  —  how  three  of  them  lie  in  the  churchyard,  and 
one  in  the  deep  North  Sea,  and  how  the  other  four  live  far  away 
in  America,  and  two  of  them  haven't  written  to  her  for  years 
and  years.  And  of  that  labor  and  travail  will  we  speak  that 
filled  Geert  Dose's  soul  with  its  anguish,  when,  on  the  third  day 
after  Gravelotte,  he  could  not  yet  come  to  die,  in  spite  of  that 
fearful  wound  in  his  back. 

But  while  we  have  in  mind  to  tell  of  such  things,  things  that 
many  will  say  are  sad  and  dreary,  we  nevertheless  go  about  the 
writing  of  this  book  with  a  heart  full  of  cheerfulness,  although 
our  face  be  earnest  and  our  lips  compressed.  For  we  hope  to 
show  in  every  nook  and  corner  of  it  that  all  the  labor  and 
trouble  the  people  in  it  go  through  are  not  gone  through  in  vain. 

WIeten  Penn,  head  maid  servant  at  Uhl  Farm,  had  been  say- 
ing that  a  great  gathering  of  folk  would  take  place  there  this 
winter. 

II 


12  JORNUHL 

"  But  the  strange  thing  about  it  is,"  she  said,  "  that  the  people 
will  come  as  though  to  some  gay  festival,  and  will  go  hence  as 
though  from  a  great  funeral." 

So  spoke  Wieten  Penn.  Her  mind  was  of  a  strange,  medi- 
tative cast,  and  she  went  by  the  name  of  Wieten  "  Klook,"  or 
"  Canny  "  Wieten. 

Klaus  Uhl,  the  big,  stalwart  marsh  farmer,  was  standing  in 
the  doorway  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  and  looking  away  out  over  the 
marshes  awaiting  his  guests.  A  self-satisfied  smile  lit  up  the 
shining  good-humored  face,  for  he  was  thinking  of  the  jollifica- 
tion and  the  card-playing  to  come,  and  the  punch-drinking,  and 
all  the  spicy  jokes  they  would  crack  that  night.  His  slight  little 
wife,  with  her  worn,  pale  face,  had  just  sat  down  in  the  chair 
that  stood  near  the  big  white  porcelain  stove,  and  her  eyes  went 
wandering  over  the  great  rooms  all  made  fine  and  gay  for  the 
guests.  She  was  now  expecting  the  birth  of  her  fifth  child,  and 
was  weary  with  the  many  things  she  had  had  to  do. 

The  three  eldest  lads  —  big  fellows  who  were  soon  to  be  con- 
firmed —  Vv'cre  standing  there,  long-limbed  and  ungainly,  near 
one  of  the  card-tables.  Their  heads  were  narrow,  and  covered 
with  flaxen  hair,  and  they  had  a  peculiar  domineering  look  about 
them.  The  youths  had  taken  up  a  pack  of  cards  that  lay  on  the 
table,  and  were  arguing  in  high,  loud  tones,  with  now  and  again 
an  oath,  about  the  rules  of  the  game ;  at  last  one  of  them 
snatched  the  pack  out  of  the  hands  of  Hans,  the  youngest,  call- 
ing him  a  young  blockhead. 

The  door  opened  and  the  little  three-year-old  Jiirgen  came 
running  up  to  his  mother.  "  Mother,  they're  coming;  I  can 
see  their  carts." 

"  Mother,"  said  Hans,  who  wanted  to  revenge  himself  on 
some  one  for  the  affront  he  had  just  suffered,  "  Jorn  looks  quite 
different  from  the  rest  of  us,  doesn't  he?  Why,  he  looks 
just  like  you  with  that  long  face  and  those  sunken  eyes  of 
his." 

She  stroked  the  little  fellow's  short-cropped  flaxen  head. 
"  He's  bonnie  enough  for  me,''  she  said. 

The  little  lad  laid  his  hands  in  her  lap,  and  looked  up  into  her 
face.  "  I  say,  mother,  Hinnerk  says  I'm  soon  going  to  get 
either  a  little  brother  or  a  little  sister.  I  want  a  sister.  When 
is  she  coming?  As  soon  as  she  comes,  you'll  have  to  tell  me  at 
once,  won't  you,  mumsie?  " 


JORN     UH  L  13 

The  two  big  brothers  went  on  with  their  game,  nudging  each 
other  and  laughing. 

"  And  what  do  you  think,  mother?  The  stable-boy  says  that 
last  night  the  horses  couldn't  sleep.  He  couldn't  stand  their 
stamping  and  fright,  he  says,  and  got  up  to  see  what  it  was. 
And  when  he  came  into  the  stable  there  they  were  all  standing 
with  their  heads  lifted,  and  at  the  far  end  of  the  barn  there  was 
a  clanking  noise,  as  if  some  one  was  dragging  a  chain.  And  that 
stupid  Wieten  Klook  has  heard  about  it,  and  of  course  wants 
to  make  out  that  there's  something  in  it.  Now  I'd  just  like 
to  know  what  it  is  that's  in  it." 

"Oh!  for  sure  there's  something  in  it,"  laughed  Hinnerk. 
*'  You  just  wait  and  see!  There'll  be  another  horse  coming  into 
the  stable,  and  then  the  oats  will  be  a  bit  scarcer.  Do  you  see? 
That's  what's  in  it." 

They  cast  a  sly  glance  at  their  mother,  and  went  out  nudging 
each  other  and  trying  to  stifle  their  laughter.  And  now  she 
was  alone  with  little  Jiirgen,  who  had  quietly  seated  himself 
by  her  side. 

"  It  is  not  a  good  thing,"  she  said,  softly,  to  herself,  "  to  hap- 
pen after  so  many  years.  The  others  are  grown  so  big  and 
knowing.  They  are  hard-hearted  like  their  father,  and  have  the 
same  hard  way  of  speaking.  They  begrudge  the  little  being  its 
life,  even  before  it  is  born."  Her  eyes  wandered  over  the  tables 
and  the  piles  of  plates  and  shimmering  glasses,  and  through  the 
rooms  with  all  their  gaudy,  half-rustic,  half-townish  finery. 
And  she  felt  in  her  heart,  not  for  the  first  time,  that  she  was 
out  of  keeping  with  all  this  brave  show  and  all  this  big,  noisy 
house;  and  her  longing  soul  took  flight  and  flew  far  away  over 
the  marshes  and  the  stunted  dry  heather,  and  home  to  the  old 
farm  on  the  moors.     Yes.  yes.     That  was  the  place  for  her. 

There  had  been  four  of  them  under  that  long,  low,  thatched 
roof,  that  stood  midway  between  the  moor  and  the  forest:  her 
father  and  mother,  her  brother  Thicss,  and  herself.  And  father 
and  mother  had  been  such  queer,  droll  creatures,  and  had 
roguishly  bantered  and  teased  each  other  their  whole  life  long. 
On  Fridays,  when  the  father  came  home  from  market  driving 
his  lean-ribbed  horses,  he  used  to  stand  up  in  his  cart  while  still 
a  good  distance  off,  and  threaten  her  with  the  whip,  shouting 
out:  "Now,  for  goodness'  sake,  little  woman,  do  be  sensible 
for  once!    Inside,  I  say,  not  out  here  in  public!  "    But  the  little 


14  JORN     UHL 

woman  had  never  grown  "  sensible,"  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
she  was  over  forty.  Directly  he  set  foot  on  the  ground,  outside 
there,  right  in  public,  so  that  a  man  at  work  on  the  Haze  Moor 
once  saw  them,  she  would  throw  her  arms  around  his  neck  and 
hug  and  kiss  him  as  if  there  were  no  one  else  in  the  whole  wide 
world.  And  then  the  gaunt  little  man,  with  his  small,  finely 
cut  weaver's  face,  would  just  laugh  outright.  They  had  never 
had  an  angry  word,  and  had  always  been  as  loving  and  cheery 
as  a  pair  of  swallows  in  springtime.  .  .  .  They  had  both  been 
dead  now  for  many  a  day.  And  her  brother  dwelt  there  behind 
the  Haze  Wood  alone.  He  was  unmarried,  and  had  his  father's 
small  features  and  the  same  droll  and  kindly  ways.  But  she 
herself  had  left  the  lean  heaths  of  her  home  and  gone  down  into 
the  fat  marsh-lands  while  still  a  mere  girl,  and  had  become  the 
wife  of  Klaus  Uhl. 

And  now  chains  had  been  heard  clanking  in  the  stable. 

"  The  three  bigger  boys  will  be  able  to  look  after  themselves. 
They've  already  begun  to  go  their  own  ways,  like  foals  that 
leave  their  mother  and  forget  her." 

But  what  about  little  Jvirgen  and  the  child  whose  coming  she 
was  expecting?  ..."  Wieten  must  stay  by  the  little  ones." 

The  carts  were  coming  nearer:  a  string  of  three  or  four  of 
them,  one  after  the  other,  were  seen  approaching  along  the  road. 
The  sturdy  Danish  horses  kept  tossing  and  lowering  their  heads, 
and  every  time  they  tossed  them  the  steam  rose  from  their 
nostrils,  and  every  time  they  lowered  them  they  made  the  silver 
on  their  harness  glisten  in  the  clear  air.  That  was  the  clan  of 
the  Uhls ;  they  came  up  once  a  year  at  this  time  and  fore- 
gathered under  the  old  rooftree  of  their  fathers  to  celebrate 
the  Uhlfest. 

They  were  not  far  off  now,  and  Klaus  Uhl,  with  a  smile  on 
his  face,  was  just  about  to  go  down  into  the  stable-yard  that 
lay  below  the  house,  when  a  clattering,  old-fashioned  cart  that 
had  come  from  the  direction  of  the  village  drove  up. 

"The  deuce!  who  ever  expected  to  see  you  here,  brother- 
m-lavv : 

Thiess  Thiessen  pulled  up  and  laughed.  "  My  old  turnout's 
hardly  grand  enough  for  the  company  that's  coming,  eh? 
Neither  am  I,  for  that  matter,  but  I'm  off  again  directly.  I've 
been  buying  a  couple  of  calves  in  the  village,  and  thought  I'd 
just  look  in  and  see  my  sister  and  little  Jorn." 


JORNUHL  15 

The  little  man  was  down  from  his  high  cart  with  a  tremen- 
dous jump,  and  led  his  horses  slowly  and  deliberately  into  the 
barn ;  then  he  went  in  to  where  his  sister  was.  She  was  sitting 
in  the  back  room  with  little  Jorn,  and  was  delighted  to  see 
him. 

"  Come,"  she  said,  "  and  sit  down  a  little  while.  Here  we're 
quite  safe.  Yes,  Thiess!  safe  from  the  grand  big  Uhls!"  she 
laughed.  "  Come,  sit  up  to  the  table.  And  how  are  the  cows 
getting  on?  Have  you  got  the  big  black  bullock  as  leader? 
Now  just  tell  me  all  about  everything  at  home,  just  as  if  you'd 
brought  the  whole  Haze  farm  with  you." 

She  asked  and  he  answered.  They  had  a  good  comfortable 
chat,  while  from  the  front  room  ever  and  anon  came  the  noise 
of  heavy  footsteps  and  people  talking,  and  the  clatter  of  crockery. 

"  I'll  just  look  in  and  see  how  they're  getting  on  in  the 
kitchen  and  in  the  stable.  And  Wieten  can  get  me  a  bite  to  eat, 
and  the  man  can  show  me  the  calves  and  foals.  I  am  going  to 
take  Jorn  along  with  me.     But  you  must  stay  here,  sister." 

He  took  the  little  fellow  by  the  hand  and  went  out. 

In  the  kitchen  doorway  a  thick-set  little  youngster  brushed 
against  his  knees. 

"  That's  a  Cray,  I'll  be  bound,"  said  Thiess.  "  You  can  tell 
it  by  his  big  red  head." 

"  It's  Fiete  Cray,"  said  Jiirgen.    "  He  always  plays  with  me." 

"  Oh !  then  of  course  he'll  have  to  come  and  sup  with  us, 
too,"  said  Thiess,  perching  himself  on  the  kitchen  table. 

They  gave  him  a  plateful  of  meat ;  and  Thiess  Thiessen  took 
it  between  his  knees,  and  the  two  children  sat  beside  him. 

"  Is  this  your  boy,  Trina  Cray?  "  said  he. 

The  woman  turned  her  hot  face  from  the  fireplace  toward 
him.     "  Yes,"  she  said,  "  he's  the  fifth.     I've  had  six." 

"  Quite  enough  mouths  at  the  manger,  Trina,  for  a  laboring 
man  \\  ho  has  to  make  heather  brooms  and  brushes  to  keep  him- 
self going  in  winter." 

"  Oh,  well,"  said  the  woman,  "  I  get  all  kinds  of  things  given 
to  me  at  the  farm  here  to  keep  the  pot  boiling." 

"  You  don't  go  home  empty-handed  then,  eh?  " 

II  No,  not  I !  " 

"Who's  responsible  for  that,  Trina?" 

"  Your  sister,  Thiess  Thiessen." 

"  Does  me  good  to  hear  it,  lass;   does  me  good  to  hear  it." 


i6  JORNUHL 

"  I  say,  J5rn,  did  you  see,"  cried  Fiete  Cray,  "  what  a  dip  my 
mother  just  made  into  the  dripping?  A  lump  as  big  as  my 
fist!" 

"  Trina,  that  lad  has  great  notions  in  his  head.  He's  a  real 
Cray;  mark  my  words,  he  won't  end  his  days  under  the  thatch 
roof  where  he  lives  now." 

"  He'll  have  to  go  out  to  service  and  be  a  farm-laborer  in 
summer,  like  his  father  before  him,  and  then  make  brushes  to 
keep  himself  in  winter." 

"  Who  can  tell  ?  "  said  Wieten. 

"Ha!  ha!  now  isn't  that  Wieten  all  over!"  said  Thiess 
Thiessen.  "  But  take  care  what  you're  saying,  Wieten.  Prophesy 
him  something  good  while  you're  about  it.  He  has  sharp  eyes 
in  that  round  headpiece  of  his,  and  a  lively  fancy,  too,  I  should 
say. 

Wieten  Penn  was  as  a  rule  reserved  and  taciturn.  But  she 
liked  having  a  talk  with  Thiess  Thiessen;  for  he  was  full  of 
such  a  grave  inquisitiveness  about  everything.  "  Strange  things 
can  happen  to  a  man,"  she  said,  reflectively.  "  Once  on  a  time 
one  of  the  Wentorf  Crays  left  his  father's  house  —  a  working- 
man's  child  he  was  —  and  came  to  the  Little  People  who  live 
underground  beneath  the  pines  on  Haze  Heath.  They  loaded 
him  with  gold,  and  then  led  him  forth  again,  and  he  came  back 
to  Wentorf.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if  it  was  only  yesterday  that 
he  had  left  home.  But  people  told  him  he'd  been  away  for  forty 
jears.  And  he  could  not  but  believe  they  spoke  the  truth.  For 
w^hen  he  looked  in  the  glass,  he  saw  that  his  hair  had  all  turned 
gray.  And,  what's  more,  he  died  soon  afterward.  Theodor 
Storm,  who  always  thought  he  knew  better  than  1,  used  to  say 
to  me:  This  story  is  meant  to  show  how  a  man  can  go  away 
into  strange  lands,  and  be  so  taken  up  with  the  fret  and  fever 
of  life  and  gold-getting  that  he  can  never  get  back  his  true  peace 
of  mind  till  it's  too  late  and  his  life  is  past.  But  that's  just 
nonsense.  It's  simply  a  story  that  really  happened  to  some 
one. 

"  Jorn !  "  shouted  Fiete  Cray.  "  Just  look!  there  goes  another 
lump.  I  say,  Jorn,  the  king  .  .  .  why,  the  king  can  eat  drip- 
ping the  whole  day  long." 

"  Laddie,"  said  Thiess  Thiessen,  "just  bide  still!  You  say 
something,  Jorn." 

"  I  know  a  rhyme,"  said  Jorn: 


JORN     UHL  17 

♦"Stork,  Stork,  Mister, 
Bring  me  a  little  sister, 
Stork,  or  bring  the  t'other. 
Bring  me  a  little  brother.' " 

"Let's  sing  it  all  together,"  proposed  Thiess;  so  they  sang 
it  and  kicked  their  heels  against  the  kitchen  table,  without 
noticing  the  while  that  Wieten  had  pricked  up  her  ears  and  then 
left  the  room,  and  also  that  the  kitchen  maid  was  sent  off  on  a 
message.  It  was  not  till  Wieten  Penn  went  over  to  Trina  Cray, 
who  was  busy  at  the  fireplace,  and  the  latter  clasped  her  hands 
together  over  her  breast  in  the  way  anxious  women  are  wont 
to  do,  that  Thiess  Thiessen  noticed  there  was  something  the 
matter. 

"What  ails  ye,  lassies?"  he  asked.  "Is  anything  wrong, 
Wieten  ?  " 

"  The  stork's  here,  Thiess,  and  is  standing  outside  on  the 
chimney-top!  " 

"Wha-at!"  cried  Thiess.  He  stared  at  Wieten  Penn,  his 
eyes  wide  with  astonishment.  "  Do  you  mean  to  say  the  stork 
has  come?  "...  With  a  bound  he  was  down  from  the  kitchen 
table;  he  tore  the  door  open  that  led  into  the  yard,  and  rushed 
away  out  into  the  stable.  In  two  minutes  he  came  back  with 
his  thin  gray-brown  old  overcoat  on,  and  his  foxskin  cap  with 
its  ear-lappets  pulled  down  over  his  forehead.  "  Take  good 
care  of  my  sister,  both  of  ye,"  he  said,  hurriedly.  "  Do  you  hear? 
Take  good  care  of  her.  And  I  won't  look  too  close  at  a  crown 
piece  or  so  between  ye,  in  spite  of  turf  and  calves  being  so  cheap 
this  year." 

"  Won't  you  wait,  Thiess,  and  hear  how  things  go?  " 

"  No!  no!  Give  her  my  love,  lass.  .  .  .  I've  harnessed  up 
and  the  cart's  waiting.  .  .  .  I  .  .  .  couldna  bear  the  sight  of  it. 
...  I  wish  her  luck,  wish  her  luck !  "  and  he  was  off.  As  he 
walked  across  the  floor  of  the  hall  they  saw  him  shaking  his 
head,  whether  at  the  world,  his  sister,  or  himself,  who  can  say? 
and  the  sound  of  his  heavy  trampling  steps  died  away  over  the 
big  dusky  room. 

The  guests  had  been  eating  and  drinking,  and  were  now  sit- 
ting at  the  card-tables.  Big,  homely  faces  the  picture  of  health, 
and  some  of  them  proud  and   handsome  enough.     The   three 


i8  JORNUHL 

Uhl  lads  were  standing  behind  the  card-players,  looking  at  the 
cards;  sometimes  they  were  good-humoredly  asked  for  their 
advice,  and  would  nod  knowingly,  and  join  in  the  laughter,  or 
fill  up  the  punch-glasses  afresh  for  the  guests. 

The  players  began  to  grow  noisy  in  their  mirth,  and  to  tell 
each  other  jokes  and  stories  in  the  midst  of  their  game,  and 
to  play  more  or  less  recklessly.  Little  piles  of  silver  coin  were 
pushed  backwards  and  forwards  across  the  table  amid  shouts 
of  laughter  and  curses.  There  were  three  or  four  of  the 
men,  however,  who  remained  quiet  and  sober.  These  were 
the  real  gamblers,  and  they  had  made  up  their  minds  not  to  go 
home  with  empty  pockets.  Each  of  them  sat  at  a  different  table, 
for  they  could  win  nothing  from  each  other.  Two  of  them  were 
by  nature  shrewd  and  level-headed  men ;  they  are  still  living  in 
their  pretty,  old-fashioned  farmhouses  under  the  lindens  in  the 
Marner  Marsh,  but  two  of  them  were  crafty  and  bad  by  nature. 
They  looked  into  the  hands  of  their  careless  neighbors,  and 
cheated  right  and  left.  One  of  them,  later  on,  fell  into  the 
hands  of  Hamburg  magsmen,  who  were  still  sharper  and  more 
unprincipled  than  himself;  and  the  other  is  now  an  old  man  of 
eighty,  and  half-blind.  He  still  plays  Six-and-sixty  for  half- 
pence, in  his  son's  cowshed  with  the  stable-boy,  and  gets  cheated 
to  his  heart's  content. 

The  reckless  ones  well  knew  that  they  were  playing  with 
cheats,  but  of  course  they  were  much  too  grand  and  good-hu- 
mored and  offhand  to  make  a  fuss  about  it.  One  of  them  who 
had  lost  pretty  heavily  could  not  help  remarking,  "  Look  here, 
now,  your  eyes  are  a  bit  too  sharp."  But  they  would  soon  begin 
laughing  again,  and  go  on  with  their  game. 

Speech-making  was  scarcely  the  strong  point  of  the  company. 
They  left  "  spouting,"  as  they  called  it,  to  the  minister  and  the 
schoolmaster.  Klaus  Uhl,  who  in  his  youth  had  paid  a  flying 
visit  to  a  grammar  school,  was  the  only  one  of  them  who  used 
to  hold  forth  now  and  then,  and  was  even  noted  for  the  jovial 
bonhomie  of  his  speeches.  He  began  by  asking  the  company  to 
excuse  his  wife  for  not  having  put  in  an  appearance,  adding  that 
she  had  now  gone  to  bed ;  but  they  were  not  to  let  that  disturb 
them,  but  to  look  to  it  that  each  of  them  went  home  with  a  good 
handful  of  crown-pieces  in  his  pocket. 

"  That's  not  so  easy,  Uhl,"  they  laughed. 

"  And,  what's  more,  as  I'm  your  host  you  shouldn't  grudge 


JORN     UHL  19 

me  a  share  of  the  luck  myself.  You  eat  my  meat  and  you  drink 
my  wine,  and  in  my  house  you  always  get  your  fill  of  good  vic- 
tuals and  good  liquor.  As  you  know,  I'm  just  expecting  my  fifth 
child."  At  this  they  threw  their  great  broad  shoulders  back  in 
their  chairs,  and  there  was  a  chorus  of  shouts  and  boisterous 
laughter. 

"  Well,  your  acres  are  broad  enough,  and  you've  plenty  of 
money  put  by  .  .  .  and  wheat's  going  up.  .  .  .  Let  the  young- 
sters go  to  college,  and  as  for  Jorn,  why,  he  must  be  our 
Provost." 

Klaus  Uhl  laughed,  and  clinked  glasses  with  his  guests. 
Alick,  the  eldest  son,  whose  head  was  muddled  with  punch,  was 
smiling  vacantly  to  himself.  Then  Hinnerk,  the  second  eldest, 
left  the  room  with  unsteady  steps,  and  came  back  carrying  little 
Jiirgen,  whom  he  had  brought  from  his  warm  bed.  He  held 
him  aloft,  and  said,  "  Look,  here's  the  Provost."  He  wanted 
to  amuse  the  guests  and  make  fun  of  the  little  lad,  this  late- 
born  interloper.  But  they  all  rose  to  their  feet  with  tipsy 
enthusiasm,  laughing  and  shouting,  "  And  a  bonnie  little  chap 
he  is."  The  child,  roused  out  of  his  fresh  sleep,  was  poking 
his  little  fists  into  his  eyes  and  looking  around  him,  dazed  and 
bewildered. 

"  He  shall  be  our  Provost  one  of  these  days,"  they  cried.  .  .  . 
"  Here's  to  his  health!     Here's  to  the  health  of  the  Provost!  " 

Hans,  the  third  eldest,  came  in  from  the  passage  with  drowsy, 
sleepy  face,  and  approached  his  father  from  behind. 

"  They  want  to  know  whether  you'll  come  to  mother  for  a 
minute,"  he  asked. 

Uhl  paid  no  heed  to  the  question,  and  the  lad  went  slouching 
out  again. 

"  My  guests  are  perfectly  right,"  said  Klaus  Uhl,  and  he 
looked  across  the  table  with  a  knowing  tv\  inkle  in  his  eyes.  "  It 
stands  to  reason,  I  can  buy  farms  for  all  my  youngsters  when 
they're  old  enough  to  look  after  them.  But  I've  had  a  pretty 
good  schooling  myself,  and  have  had  quite  enough  Latin 
knocked  into  me  to  know  that  book-learning  is  a  mighty  fine 
thing.  So  I  thank  you  for  your  good  wishes,  friends.  I'll  do 
what  I  can,  and  little  Jiirgen  shall  be  the  first  son  of  a  farmer 
to  sit  in  the  house  of  the  Provost.  We  farmers  can  well  expect 
—  gad !  I  say  we  can  well  expect  and  demand  that  one  of  our 
own  class  shall  govern  us  one  day  or  other;    and  if  we  can 


20  JORNUHL 

demand  that,  then  I'd  like  to  know  what  family  has  a  better 
right  than  the  Uhls  to  give  us  a  governor." 

Again  the  door  opened,  and  again  Hans  stood  there.  He 
stopped  in  the  doorway,  and  called  loudly  through  the  noise: 

"  Father,  mother  says  you  must  come  to  her." 

"  Don't  interrupt  me  just  at  present,  boy.  ...  By  and  by. 
...  As  I  was  saying,  he'll  have  an  easy  time  of  it  in  his  youth, 
always  plenty  of  money  in  his  pocket,  and  so  on ;  and  then  he'll 
be  smart  and  good-looking,  and  have  his  head  screwed  on  the 
right  way.  Faith !  he  wouldn't  be  the  son  of  his  father  if  he 
didn't.  And,  what's  more,  he'll  take  life  easy,  just  as  I  do. 
He'll  never  know  what  care  is,  I  tell  you.  Come,  friends,  let's 
drink  a  health  to  the  Provost.     Here's  to  Jorn  Uhl." 

"  Here's  to  the  health  of  the  Provost." 

"  The  health  of  the  Provost." 

"  Father,  the  woman  that's  with  mother  says  that  we  must 
have  the  horse  and  trap  in  readiness." 

That  startled  them. 

"  Horse  and  trap?  .  .  .  Why!    what's  the  matter  now?" 

"  Has  something  gone  wrong?  "  asked  one. 

"  Come,  let's  put  the  cards  away,"  said  another.  "  It's 
already  after  eleven." 

"  Come,  friends,  I'm  off,"  said  another. 

"  Wait  a  minute,  I'm  with  you,"  said  another. 

"  Don't  go  yet  awhile,  friends,"  said  Klaus  Uhl.  "  It's  noth- 
ing but  a  woman's  nervousness." 

"  No,  we  must  be  .  .  ." 

"  No,  it's  time  to  be  jogging." 

A  few  still  continued  talking  about  their  game,  regretting 
that  it  had  been  broken  up  so  suddenly  and  unexpectedly. 

"  I  think  I'll  just  look  in  at  '  The  Wheatsheaf '  on  the  way 
home  for  a  little  while." 

"  So  will  I.  D'you  know  what?  We'll  just  step  down  to 
the  inn  together.  We  can  go  on  foot,  and  let  our  carts  come 
on  afterward." 

"  I'm  devilish  sorry  that  I  can't  come  with  you,  friends, 
devilish  sorry,"  said  Klaus  Uhl. 

"If  you  come  with  us  we  won't  get  home  before  daybreak 
for  a  certainty." 

One  of  them  went  up  to  him  and  grasped  his  hand,  saying: 


JORN     U  H  L  21 

"  No,  don't  come  with  us;  it's  better  you  should  stay  at  home 
with  your  wife." 

He  went  into  his  wife's  room,  and  found  her  fairly  well. 
The  people  around  the  bed  were  saying  that  they  hoped  to  be 
able  to  manage  now  without  the  doctor's  help.  Then  he  went 
back  to  the  front  room  and  listened  through  the  door,  that  was 
still  open  as  the  guests  had  left  it.  Through  the  stillness  of  the 
night  you  could  hear  in  the  distance  their  loud  shouts  and  their 
laughing  answers.  Once  more  he  went  slowly  back  through 
the  great  room,  and  again  returned.  Finally  he  took  his  cap 
down  from  the  peg  where  it  hung.  It  was  as  though  a  strong 
man  were  taking  him  by  the  shoulders  and  thrusting  him  out. 
He  passed  through  the  doorway  and  followed  the  others.  He 
never  wore  an  overcoat  when  walking.  He  had  so  much  vigor 
and  warm  blood  in  him  that  he  did  not  need  it. 

Immediately  afterward  Alick  and  Hinnerk  entered  the  serv- 
ants' room  with  a  full  punch-bowl.  As  a  rule,  they  liked  to 
play  the  master,  and  were  at  constant  strife  with  the  servants 
on  the  farm  ;  but  on  a  day  like  this  they  assumed  a  condescend- 
ing sort  of  good  fellowship,  and  would  fain  have  hobnobbed 
even  with  the  servants. 

The  head  ploughman  on  the  farm,  an  old  gray-headed  man, 
had  seen  the  last  conveyance  off,  and  now  came  in.  He  let 
himself  drop  stiffly  into  a  seat,  and  drained  the  glass  that  they 
set  before  him.  The  stable-boy  was  hacking  at  the  wooden  table 
with  his  knife,  and  anon  trying  to  wrest  a  coin  from  the  fist 
of  little  Fiete  Cray.  One  of  the  guests  had  given  it  to  the  lad. 
The  boy  had  fallen  fast  asleep,  with  his  head  on  the  table,  and 
was  holding  the  money  tightly  clenched  in  his  hand,  and  only 
murmured  occasionally  in  his  sleep,  "  Leave  me  alone,  Jorn!  " 
drawing  his  hand  back. 

The  dairymaid  now  came  Into  the  room.  At  other  times 
she  was  gay  and  sprightly  enough,  but  now  she  seemed  quite 
dazed,  and  her  eyes  were  staring  wide  with  fright. 

"  Is  it  true  about  the  noise  in  the  stables  last  night,  Dietrich?  " 

The  man  nodded.  "  I  can't  help  it,  Jule,"  he  said.  "  I  heard 
it  right  enough  myself,  but  what  it  means,  I  don't  know." 

"  I  can't  bear  to  be  in  the  room  there  with  Wieten.  She's 
white  as  a  sheet,  and  will  have  it  that  something  dreadful  is 
going  to  happen  to-night.  I  won't  stay  here  any  longer  —  not 
another  hour  will  I  stay  on  the  farm  if  things  go  wrong." 


22  JORNUHL 

She  took  hold  of  the  edge  of  the  table,  for  her  knees  were 
trembling,  and  let  herself  drop  into  a  chair. 

"  Hallo!  "  said  Hinnerk,  "  now  just  stop  that  croaking,  you. 
Let's  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry,  for  to-morrow  we  die,  as  the 
parson  says." 

He  pushed  a  full  glass  of  punch  toward  the  girl,  but  his  hand 
was  so  unsteady  that  he  spilt  it,  and  had  to  fill  it  up  afresh. 

"  Come  nearer  to  me,  Jule." 

"  Thank  you  for  nothing,"  said  the  girl ;  "  at  other  times 
you're  too  proud  to  know  me.  I'll  have  nothing  to  do  with  you, 
and  as  for  your  punch,  you  can  keep  it  for  yourself." 

Alick  looked  up  at  her  tipsily. 

"You  sha'n't  laugh  at  me,  I  tell  you;  I'm  master  in  this 
house." 

"You  master;  you're  nothing  at  all,"  said  Jule  Geerts. 
"  You're  nothing  more  than  a  stupid  lout." 

"What!    you  hussy!     I'll  make  you  pay  for  that!  " 

"  What  did  Wieten  say  to  you,  Dietrich  ?  She  has  been  see- 
ing lighted  tapers,  hasn't  she?     Do  you  really  think  it's  true?  " 

She  looked  at  the  man  with  wide  eyes  full  of  fear.  He  made 
a  wTy  face.  He  was  '*  keeping  company,"  as  the  servants  say, 
with  Wieten  Penn,  and  had  half  a  mind  to  marry  her,  but  it 
worried  him  that  people  should  say  of  her  that  she  could  see 
into  the  future  and  knew  the  signs  of  coming  trouble. 

"What  has  she  been  seeing?"  asked  the  girl  for  the  second 
time.  She  was  shuddering  with  fear  already,  and  knew  that  her 
terror  would  only  be  increased,  but  she  could  not  help  wanting 
to  hear  it. 

"  A  week  ago  to-night,  about  nine  o'clock,  when  she  had  just 
come  back  from  the  village,  she  saw  the  shine  of  lights  in  the 
big  room.  They  weren't  arranged  as  they  generally  are  when 
there's  card-playing  going  on  there,  but  higher,  as  if  they  were 
placed  around  a  coffin,  and  each  candle  had  a  kind  of  reddish 
halo  around  it.  She  didn't  dare  to  look  in,  but  you  may  be  sure 
she  put  two  and  two  together  —  and  there  you  have  the  whole 
story." 

"Stuff  and  nonsense!  All  stuff  and  nonsense!"  said  Hin- 
nerk, wagging  his  head  tipsily  from  side  to  side. 

Suddenly  they  heard  doors  being  hastily  opened.  Jule  Geerts 
started  up  and  shrieked.  She  remained  a  nervous  woman  for 
the  rest  of  her  life,  it  is  said,  even  after  she  had  had  children 


JORNUHL  23 

of  her  own ;  and  as  they  grew  big  and  the  aihnents  of  age  began 
to  trouble  her,  she  always  would  have  it  that  the  pains  in  her 
back  were  caused  by  that  night,  and  the  fright  she  got  when 
Trina  Cray's  white  face  appeared  there  in  the  doorway.  "  She 
looked  just  like  a  ghost,"  she  would  say. 

"  Dietrich,  harness  up  quick,  and  go  for  the  doctor!  " 

"Clear  out!"  cried  Hinnerk.  "You  and  your  youngster, 
away  with  \-ou  both  from  the  farm!" 

He  gave  the  little  fellow  a  rough  push  so  that  he  awoke. 

"  The  poorest  woman  in  the  land  is  not  so  utterly  deserted 
as  your  mother  this  night." 

Dietrich  was  already  outside.  Jule  Geerts  crept  away  shiver- 
ing after  him. 

Steps  were  heard  hurrying  hither  and  thither.  There  was 
commotion  throughout  the  whole  house.  In  the  kitchen  the 
smouldering  fire  was  blown  into  a  blaze.  In  the  big  hall  the 
light  of  the  lantern  flew  like  a  great  red  bird  backwards  and 
forwards,  as  if  wildly  seeking  some  outlet  of  escape.  Now  it 
would  flutter  up  and  down  the  wooden  walls  of  the  stable,  and 
anon  fly  away  over  the  horses,  so  that  they  became  restive.  Now 
it  leapt  up  to  the  great  rafters  of  the  roof,  and  now  again  went 
rushing  up  and  down  the  high-piled  hay-sheaves.  In  the  stables 
the  chains  of  frightened  animals  were  rattling.  They  heard 
the  big  door  being  dashed  open,  and  the  wheels  of  a  vehicle 
whirling  away  out  into  the  snowy  night. 

The  sick  woman  turned  her  head  from  side  to  side  uneasily, 
listening  and  asking  for  her  husband. 

"  Strangers  have  to  help  me  in  my  hour  of  need.  .  .  .  Are 
the  children  asleep?  Has  little  Jorn  been  put  to  bed?  So  his 
father  says  he's  to  be  Provost,  does  he?  No,  let  him  first  grow 
up  an  honest  and  sober  man  —  w-hether  Provost  or  ploughman, 
it  won't  matter." 

She  had  received  her  first  three  boys  from  her  husband,  im- 
passively, as  his  gift,  and  so  they  had  taken  after  their  father. 
Then  ten  years  passed  by,  in  which  she  had  drifted  farther 
and  farther  apart  from  him,  and  learned  her  lesson  of  self- 
reliance.  She  had  gradually  ceased  to  look  at  Life  and  Human- 
ity through  the  eyes  of  her  big,  loud-voiced  husband.  Slowly 
and  hesitatingly,  but,  as  time  went  on,  more  and  more  clearly, 
she  had  come  to  see  that  her  own  world  and  her  own  way  of 
looking  at  things  was   infinitely  more  beautiful,   clearer,   and 


24  JORNUHL 

purer  than  her  husband's.  The  four  people  who  had  once  dwelt 
over  there  beliind  the  Haze  on  the  quiet  moorland  farm  —  ah! 
what  good  and  happy  lives  they  had  led  there;  but  as  for 
these,  who  were  living  here  on  the  Uhl  lands,  they  all  seemed 
like  lost  souls  wandering  forlorn  in  some  trackless  wilderness. 
She  no  longer  had  power  to  prevent  it.  She  had  allowed  the 
man  at  her  side  to  have  the  upper  hand  too  long.  She  could 
not  even  hope  to  make  her  own  three  children  any  different  from 
what  they  were,  they  had  grown  so  far  beyond  her  control. 

But,  after  all,  she  had  come  at  last  to  her  rights.  For  once 
more  she  had  borne  a  child,  this  time  a  small,  delicate-featured 
boy,  and  it  was  no  w^onder  she  had  laughed  so  proudly  and 
happily  to  herself  w^hen  her  husband,  as  he  looked  at  the  child, 
was  forced  to  exclaim : 

"  He's  a  Thiessen  all  over!  " 

And  this  one,  that  was  to  come  into  the  world  to-night,  was 
also  a  Thiessen ;   that  she  was  sure  of. 

And  it  is  a  difficult  thing  for  a  Thiessen  to  make  his  way 
through  the  world.    They  are  an  odd  and  meditative  folk. 

"  The  three  eldest  boys  know  how  to  use  their  elbows.  They 
will  make  their  way  in  the  world,  but  my  heart  is  sore  for  the 
two  little  ones  if  I  have  to  die." 

She  tried  to  fold  her  hands,  and  prayed  in  deep  and  bitter 
anguish  that  her  life  might  be  spared,  entreating  this  thing  of 
God,  till  the  beads  of  sw^eat  stood  thick  upon  her  forehead. 

"  Tell  Wieten  to  come  to  me,"  she  said. 

The  young  woman  came  close  to  the  bedside. 

"  Wieten,  I  may  be  ill  for  a  very  long  time,  and  perhaps  I 
may  never  get  over  it.  H  you  would  only  promise  me  to  stay 
here  on  the  farm,  Wieten  Penn.  ...  I  believe  it  will  be  better 
for  you,  too,  never  to  marry.  Don't  worry  about  the  big  lads, 
—  you  wouldn't  be  able  to  manage  them  in  any  case,  —  but 
look  after  my  little  ones  for  me,  Wieten.  Tell  my  husband  that 
I  have  asked  this  thing  of  you,  and  that  I  begged  him  to  let  you 
have  your  way  with  my  two  youngest  children,  if  I  died." 

Wieten  Penn,  whom  they  called  "  Wieten  Klook,"  had  fore- 
seen the  coming  of  many  a  thing.  She  had  foreseen  the  hour 
of  joy  and  the  hour  of  sorrow,  but  not  such  a  request  as  this. 
No  one  can  explain,  not  even  she  herself,  how  she  came  to  de- 
termine her  whole  future  with  such  swift  decision  in  those  few 
moments. 


JORNUHL  25 

"  I  will  look  after  the  children,"  she  said,  "  as  true  as  I  stand 
here.     V'ou  may  trust  them  to  me.  Mistress  Uhl." 

She  left  the  bedside  and  went  into  the  kitchen  and  stood  by 
the  fireside  awhile,  silent  and  motionless. 

Then  Dietrich  came  in  and  said  to  her  in  his  simple,  dry  way: 

"  \  ou  don't  need  to  stand  by  the  fire  all  night  long.  The 
farm  lads  are  all  sitting  in  the  front  room;  come  and  sit  with 
us  awhile." 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  No!  It  can  never  come  to  anything  between  us,  Dietrich," 
she  said.     "  Let  me  go  my  way  in  peace,  and  leave  me  alone." 

Then  he  went  out  of  the  kitchen  on  tiptoe;  and  shook  his 
head  at  the  world  for  awhile.  Rut  he  soon  consoled  himself, 
and  has  remained  a  bachelor  all  his  days. 

Then  the  sudden  noise  of  wheels  driving  up  was  heard.  The 
doctor  crossed  the  hall,  examined  the  patient,  and  made  his 
preparations.  He  came  back  to  the  kitchen  once  more,  and 
inquired  where  the  husband  was. 

"  He's  down  at  '  The  Wheatsheaf,'  "  said  Fiete  Cray,  "  play- 
ing cards.  We've  sent  for  him  twice,  but  he  won't  take  any 
notice." 

The  doctor  scowled,  muttering  the  names  of  certain  animals. 
Nobody  had  ever  before  called  the  great,  proud,  jovial  man  by 
such  names.  Then  he  wrote  three  words  on  a  piece  of  paper 
and  sent  one  of  the  maids  to  the  inn  with  it. 

"  Run,"  he  said. 

In  the  dim  light  of  the  big  hall,  as  she  was  taking  her  shawl 
down  from  the  peg,  Jule  Geerts  read  the  word  "  operation." 

Then,  shivering  and  weeping,  she  rushed  off,  and  kept  look- 
ing behind  her  as  though  evil  spirits  were  pursuing  her. 

Toward  morning  all  was  over.  The  grooms,  pale  and  speech- 
less, were  cleaning  down  the  sweat-covered  horses  in  the  stables. 
Wieten  Penn  was  standing  near  the  fireplace  with  her  hand 
raised  to  her  head.  As  she  gazed  into  the  glowing  embers,  she 
saw  nothing  but  live  flames  there,  for  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 
Jule  Geerts  was  sitting  near  the  wash-trough,  quite  motion- 
less. 

She  felt  afraid  of  Wieten  and  of  every  dark  corner  in  the 
house,  but  most  of  all  was  she  afraid  of  the  little  dead  woman, 
lying  inside  there  so  still  and  quiet.    The  doctor  had  said  to  Uhl, 


26  JORNUHL 

"  Had  I  been  sent  for  an  hour  earlier  perhaps  I  could  have  been 
of  use.     Why  wasn't  I  sent  for  sooner?  " 

Tiien  Klaus  Uhl  gnashed  his  teeth  and  cried  out  like  a  wild 
beast.  He  lay  wailing  beside  her  bed  and  crying,  "  Mother! 
Mother!  "  As  wife  she  had  meant  but  little  more  to  him  than 
that.  She  was  the  mother  of  his  children,  and  that  was  all. 
He  had  always  called  her  by  this  name,  "  Mother."  His  chil- 
dren's need  cried  aloud  to  him  in  that  one  word. 

VVieten  stood  in  the  next  room,  holding  the  new-born  child 
in  her  arms. 

"  A  wee  little  lass,  but  strong  for  all  that,"  said  Trina  Cray. 
"  One  can  see  already  that  it  has  its  mother's  face,  and  even 
her  dark  hair." 

"  It  doesn't  cry,"  said  Wieten;    "surely  it's  not  dead." 

"  Give  it  to  me  for  a  moment,"  and  Trina  Cray  took  the 
baby  and  gave  it  two  or  three  slaps  with  the  palm  of  her  hand. 

Then  the  child  uttered  a  cry. 

"  Shall  we  lay  it  in  my  bed  ?  "  asked  Wieten.  "  I  have  made 
my  room  warm.    Jorn  is  lying  there  already." 

They  crossed  over  to  Wieten's  room,  and  found  little  Jorn 
quietly  asleep  in  bed.  He  lay  cuddled  together  like  a  hedge- 
hog, all  rolled  up  in  a  ball.  The  small  face  was  almost  hidden, 
but  one  could  see  his  head  with  its  bristly,  flaxen  hair.  And 
near  him  lay  Fiete  Cray,  sleeping  in  his  clothes.  He  had  drawn 
the  blanket  a  little  over  to  his  side,  and  was  curled  up  comfort- 
ably. 

"  The  sleepyhead!  "  said  Trina.    "  Has  he  stayed  here,  too?  " 

"Just  leave  him  where  he  is,"  said  Wieten;  "  I'll  put  the 
little  maid  at  the  other  end." 

And  so  the  children  slept  that  night  in  one  bed  —  the  two 
boys  at  the  head  of  it,  and  the  little  baby  girl  at  their  feet. 


CHAPTER    II. 

JuRGEN  was  the  name  of  the  brfstly-haired  youngster,  and 
the  little  girl's  name  was  Elsabe.  That  was  what  the  minister 
had  put  in  the  baptismal  register;  but  the  baptismal  register 
speaks  aristocratic  High  German,  while  all  the  people  amongst 
whom  these  children  lived  speak  Low  German,  and  so  they 
call  him  Jorn,  and  the  little  girl  in  the  cradle  they  call  Elsbe. 
And  these  are  the  names  they  still  go  by  to-day,  Jorn  and  Elsbe 
Uhl. 

In  little  Jorn  Uhl's  eyes  the  house  he  lived  in  seemed  a  great 
vast  place.  When  the  child  stood  in  the  big  hall,  or  trotted 
through  the  barn,  he  could  see  gloomy,  mysterious  corners 
everywhere.  Nor  did  he  believe  that  it  came  to  an  end  any- 
where;   for  him  the  hall  was  as  big  as  the  whole  world. 

And  the  grown-up  people  who  come  in,  now  through  this 
door,  now  through  that,  are  always  doing  such  wonderful  things, 
and  with  such  grave  faces,  and  so  soberly,  without  screaming 
or  skipping  about  or  weeping  or  anything!  It  is  simply  mar- 
vellous! They  are  all  different  from  him.  Only  little  Snap, 
who  runs  along  beside  him  through  the  huge  room,  is  at  all  like 
him.  They  have  their  meals  together,  and  sleep  curled  up  close 
to  each  other,  and  from  time  to  time  —  that  is  to  say,  every 
Saturday  —  Wieten  puts  them  both  into  the  big  wash-tub 
together,  and  souses  them  up  to  their  ears  in  water. 

They  are  all  so  different  from  him,  the  horses  and  the  human 
beings  and  the  cows.  He  and  Snap  are  the  only  two  creatures 
that  are  exactly  alike.  Once,  indeed,  he  and  Snap  were  in  hopes 
that  they  had  got  hold  of  a  real  comrade.  It  was  a  foal  that 
was  grazing  near  its  mother  in  a  neighboring  paddock.  They 
could  both  tell  at  a  glance  that  the  mother  was  another  of  those 
strange,  gra\e,  grown-up  creatures,  but  in  the  foal  they  saw 
signs  of  a  philosophy  something  like  their  own.  But  when 
Snap  came  rather  too  near  the  foal  it  kicked  out.     My!    how 

27 


28  JORNUHL 

it  kicked.  Howling,  they  both  made  for  the  barn-door  as  fast 
as  their  legs  would  cany  them.  There  they  stood  gazing  with 
terrified  eyes  at  the  foal,  both  barking.  At  least,  that  is  how 
Jorn  expressed  it.  He  never  said,  "  Wieten  has  been  scolding," 
but  "  Wieten  has  been  barking,"  so  close  was  his  fellowship 
with  his  comrade  Snap. 

There  was  not  a  soul  on  the  whole  farm  to  take  Jorn  by  the 
hand  and  explain  things  to  him.  Wieten  had  no  time,  and  the 
others  had  no  inclination.  And  perhaps  it  was  just  as  well 
that  it  was  so,  for  now  it  was  a  case  of  Robinson  Crusoe.  "  Up 
with  you,  and  explore  the  country,  and  discover  land  and  water 
and  tools  and  food  for  yourself!  " 

One  sunny  day  he  and  Snap  were  out  hunting  in  the  old  moat, 
with  loud  halloos,  trying  to  catch  a  water-rat  that  was  swim- 
ming there.  They  were  both  pulled  out  of  the  water  half- 
drowned,  and  both  got  a  thrashing  from  Wieten,  and  were 
both  put  to  bed  together,  and  barked  and  bellowed  themselves 
to  sleep. 

That  was  one  of  their  voyages  of  discovery.  Then  again, 
neither  of  them  knew  what  a  cellar  was.  They  both  thought 
it  was  a  kind  of  bottomless  pit,  with  great  lizards  for  beams  and 
uprights.  One  day,  when  they  had  laid  a  wager  as  to  who 
would  reach  the  other  end  of  the  hall  first,  and  had  started  off 
with  a  rush,  there  suddenly  rose  a  threatening  voice  out  of  the 
earth  in  front  of  them  —  great  beet  roots  flew^  up  right  and  left. 
With  their  accustomed  unanimity  they  flung  themselves  at  the 
man's  head  that  appeared  in  the  opening. 

Later  on,  howling  and  barking,  they  sat  together  near  the 
ladder  that  stood  in  the  stable,  and  told  each  other  about  the 
dreadful  things  they  had  seen. 

And  so,  between  them,  they  thoroughly  explored  their  farm- 
house realm,  and  gained  considerable  experience. 

But  one  day  this  close  relation  between  Jorn  and  his  comrade 
underwent  a  sudden  change. 

Up  to  this  time  they  used  to  go  together,  three  or  four  times 
a  day,  into  the  back  room,  to  stroke  the  little  girl  that  lay  there 
in  the  cradle  or  sat  up  in  a  chair,  Snap  wagging  his  tail  at  her. 
And  then  they  would  run  out  again,  and  trouble  themselves 
no  further  about  the  child. 

But  one  beautiful,  sunny  day,  when  Jorn  had  come  back  with 
Snap  from  a  run  in  the  meadows,  what  was  their  surprise  to 


J  O  R  N     U  H  L  29 

see  this  same  little  girl  standing  in  front  of  the  kitchen  door, 
gazing  around  her  with  wondering  eyes.  Never  were  two 
creatures  more  taken  aback  than  Snap  and  Jorn  Uhl.  To  think 
that  such  a  thing  was  possible!  They  took  the  wee  mite  between 
them,  and  went  with  her  along  the  road  to  a  place  where  there 
was  beautiful  clayey  water  in  the  wheel-ruts.  There  they 
began  to  dig  moats  and  build  dikes. 

From  this  time  on  Snap  began  to  wane  in  importance. 

Jorn  now  played  all  day  long  with  this  little  sister  of  his. 
The  dog  became  less  and  less  of  a  comrade  and  more  and 
more  of  a  mere  plaything.  The  little  girl  became  acquainted 
with  her  surroundings  much  more  quickly  than  her  brother  had 
done.  He  had  only  had  Snap  for  a  guide,  and  Snap  was  at  best 
but  an  uncertain  and  unreliable  leader.  But  the  brother  knew 
everything  and  could  do  ever\'thing.  He  led  little  Elsbe  over 
the  whole  house,  and  into  the  bakehouse,  and  out  to  the  barn, 
and  even  out  over  the  stile  into  the  meadows  where  the  calves 
could  be  seen  playing  about.    And  one  day  he  said : 

"  Come,  Elsbe,  let's  go  and  climb  up  Ringelshorn."  He  took 
her  by  the  hand.  Snap  ran  on  ahead,  barking,  and  so  they  went 
along  the  road  till  the  old  hill-land  rose  up  before  them. 

"Now  for  it!" 

Up  they  go,  toiling  and  panting.  The  pathway  leads  steep 
up  through  the  heather.  They  have  to  take  a  rest  on  the  way. 
Then  an  idea  strikes  Jorn.  He  will  tie  the  piece  of  yarn  that 
he  always  carries  in  his  pocket  to  Snap's  collar,  and  Snap  will 
have  to  pull  them  up  the  hill.  So  they  go  on  higher  and  higher. 
Now  a  sand-hole,  now  heather  again,  now  high  thickets  of 
broom,  which  they  can  hold  on  to.    Then  they  rest  awhile. 

At  last  they  are  at  the  top,  and  are  just  going  to  cry  "  Hal- 
loo "  through  their  hands,  when  the  East  Wind,  that  they  had 
not  noticed  at  all  while  they  were  down  below,  catches  hold 
of  them.  Up  there  on  the  heath  he  has  free  play.  He  rumples 
the  little  girl's  hair  and  blows  her  skirts  up,  and  pushes  her 
rudely,  and  often  topples  her  over.  Jorn  makes  a  dash  to  help 
her  to  her  feet  again,  but  Snap  misunderstands  it  all.  He  is 
so  stupid.  He  thinks  they  want  to  climb  down  again,  and 
springs  away  down-hill.  That's  how  it  is  that  Jorn  gets  entan- 
gled in  the  cord,  and  the  three  tumble  and  roll  head  over  heels 
down  the  slope,  till  they  find  themselves  lying  in  a  heap  in  a 
sand-hole  at  the  bottom.    And  up  above  stands  the  East  Wind 


so  JORNUHL 

with  his  cheeks  puffed  out,  bending  over  the  edge  of  the  hill, 
roaring  with  laughter  at  them. 

"  Well,"  says  Jorn,  after  they  have  howled  for  a  bit,  "  that 
was  a  nice  piece  of  work,  wasn't  it?  " 

They  climb  the  hill  again,  but  the  dog  refuses  to  go  with 
them.  They  coax  him,  they  appeal  to  his  sense  of  honor,  they 
threaten  him  with  hunger,  and  pelt  him  with  sand  and  lumps 
of  earth.  He  understands  it  all  perfectly  well,  for  he  wags  his 
tail,  and  shivers  and  barks  pitifully  for  forgiveness.  But  he 
hasn't  pluck  enough.  "  Let  him  be,  Elsbe,  he's  a  regular 
cowardly  custard." 

They  sit  down  on  the  hilltop,  in  the  cold  wind,  among  the 
heather,  and  look  for  awhile  quietly  down  on  the  broad,  flat 
marsh-land  and  the  Uhl  buildings  at  their  feet. 

"  I  say,  Jorn,"  says  Elsbe,  "  why  haven't  we  got  a  mother? 
Everybody  but  us  has  a  mother.  What  does  a  mother  have 
to  do,  Jorn?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Elsbe?  " 

"  Why,  I  mean  with  a  child." 

"  Oh!  she  goes  like  this  all  the  time,  to  and  fro,  to  and  fro, 
holding  it  in  her  arms ;  and  then  she  says,  '  ]VIy  dear  little  one, 
my  little  pops !  '  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  I  saw  one  yesterday 
as  I  was  fetching  Hinnerk's  boots  from  the  shoemaker's." 

"  But  no  mother  ought  to  stay  dead.     Ought  she?  " 

"  She  doesn't,  either,  only  when  people  don't  look  after  her." 

"Who  didn't  look  after  her?" 

"  Why,  father  didn't,  nor  the  others  either.  There  were  a 
whole  lot  of  people  in  the  house,  eating  and  drinking,  and  they 
just  thought  of  nothing  else  but  eating  and  drinking." 

"Father  too?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Do  you  know  for  certain,  Jorn  ?  " 

"  Yes.     Fiete  Cray  told  me  so." 

Elsbe  keeps  kicking  the  earth  up  with  her  foot,  and  is  so  in- 
tent on  her  thoughts  that  she  can  hardly  get  her  words  out. 

"Are  vou  quite,  quite  sure?     As  true  as  I  stand  here?" 

"  Yes." 

"Why  didn't  he  look  after  her,  then?" 

Jorn  springs  a  little  way  down,  into  the  heather,  and  says 
out  loud,  with  his  face  turned  away: 

"  Because  he  was  drunk!  " 


JORNUHL  31 

Neither  knew  exactly  what  the  word  meant,  but  at  home 
they  had  often  heard  their  brothers  use  such  expressions  as 
"  The  drunken  lout,"  or,  "  You  were  blind  drunk,  too,  yester- 
day." 

They  felt  it  was  something  dreadful,  and  spoke  no  further 
about  it.  Presently  Jorn  said:  "Do  you  know  what,  Elsbe? 
To-night  in  bed,  when  Wieten  comes  to  us,  let's  both  say 
together,  '  Mother  Klook!  '  " 

"  Yes,  and  if  Fiete  Cray  comes,  we'll  say  to  him,  '  Father 
Cray! 

And  then  they  climbed  down  Ringelshorn  from  mound  to 
mound,  holding  on  by  the  heather. 

As  they  grow  older  the  evening  brings  with  it  a  new  kind 
of  life  for  them.  They  may  now  stay  up  for  two  whole  hours 
after  supper.  And  they  sit  in  Wieten's  little  room,  round  the 
square  table,  and  all  the  four  sides  of  it  are  occupied.  At  one 
side  sits  Wieten,  Jorn  at  another,  at  the  third  side  sits  Elsbe,  and 
at  the  fourth,  between  Jorn  and  Elsbe,  sits  Fiete  Cray. 

During  the  day  Fiete  Cray  cannot  come.  He  has  to  go 
tramping  far  away  among  the  marsh  villages,  selling  brushes 
and  heather-brooms  and  curry-combs.  He  has  his  wares  in  a 
little  cart  drawn  by  dogs. 

But  of  an  evening  he  comes  over  to  the  Uhl  for  awhile.  He 
comes  every  evening.  In  the  winter  he  is  blue  with  the  cold, 
and  in  the  summer  rather  tired ;  but  he's  always  in  good  spirits. 
In  winter  it  is  particularly  cosy  and  sociable  among  this  little 
company. 

It  always  begins  in  the  same  way:  Wieten  lays  a  pile  of 
stockings  and  balls  of  wool  and  mending  on  the  table,  puts  the 
lamp  in  the  middle,  and  pushes  her  mending  to  one  side.  Then 
she  sets  a  great  hunch  of  bread  and  raw  bacon  before  Fiete 
Cray,  who  clutches  at  it  hungrily.  Jorn  Uhl  has  never  for- 
gotten that  swift,  eager  clutch,  and  the  thin,  frozen,  boyish 
hand  that  was  not  always  too  clean. 

One  of  the  brothers  comes  in  —  Hans,  or  perhaps  Alick. 

"  Fiete,  you  must  come  and  play  cards  with  us ;  we  want 
a  fourth  man." 

But  Jorn  and  Elsbe  cry  "  No!     No!  "  and  hold  him  fast. 

Then  Hans  goes  up  to  the  table  and  says,  threateningly: 

**  If  vou  don't  come  with  me,  I'll  tell  father  how  you're  fed 


32  JORNUHL 

up  here  every  night,  my  young  gourmand.  Your  proper  place 
is  in  the  servants'  room." 

And  then  Wieten  will  give  a  sharp  look  over  her  spectacles 
at  the  gawky,  half-grown  youth,  and  point  to  the  door. 

"  Off  with  you!  This  is  my  part  of  the  house;  and  if  I  find 
you  here  again,  I'll  tell  your  father  where  you  were  last  night, 
you  young  good-for-nothing.  You'll  be  the  worst  of  the  whole 
lot  yet !  "  And  sometimes  she'll  raise  her  hand  darkly.  "  I 
know  all  about  3'ou  and  your  brothers.  The  time  will  come 
when  you'll  seek  your  bread  among  the  stubble  of  the  fields." 

Then  he  laughs  and  goes  out  with  a  curse,  and  they  have 
peace  once  more. 

"  And  now  Fiete  must  tell  us  about  his  day's  doings!  "  says 
Jorn. 

"  No!  "  says  the  little  girl,  with  a  grand  air  of  self-im- 
portance; "first  Wieten  shall  tell  a  story,  and  then  I'll  tell 
you  one,  and  then  Fiete  shall  tell  his." 

"  All  right,  then;   fire  away!  " 

There  sits  Wieten,  turning  over  the  pile  of  mending,  stretch- 
ing her  hand  out  now  and  again  for  this  and  that  piece  of  cotton, 
drawing  the  thread  across  holes  that  gape  in  the  stockings,  and 
telling  one  tale  to-day  and  another  to-morrow.  And  so  it  goes 
on.     For  example,  it  is  Wieten 's  turn: 

"  When  I  was  in  Schenefeld,  the  farmer's  wife  used  to  tell 
us  this  story.  '  There  was  once  a  peasant,'  she  used  to  say, 
'  who  had  taken  a  two  years'  lease  of  a  piece  of  land  from  the 
devil,  and  the  devil  said  to  the  peasant,  "  You  will  farm  the 
land,  but  we'll  let  the  dice  decide  which  of  us  is  to  have  what 
grows  above  the  ground  there,  and  which  of  us  is  to  have  what 
grows  beneath  it."  Well,  they  started  throwing  dice,  and,  of 
course,  the  devil  made  the  highest  throw,  and  so  he  was  to  have 
everything  that  grew  in  the  field  above  ground.  So  off  went 
the  peasant  and  sowed  a  crop  of  beet  root,  and  when  autumn 
came,  what  did  the  devil  get,  think  you?  why,  nothing  but  the 
leaves.  Very  well !  Next  year  they  cast  the  dice  once  more. 
This  time  the  devil  naturally  took  care  to  get  fewer  points,  and 
so  he  was  to  have  all  that  grew  beneath  the  earth.  Off  went 
the  peasant  and  sowed  the  land  with  nothing  but  wheat.  And 
when  autumn  came,  what  did  the  devil  get,  think  you?  why, 
nothing  but  the  roots. 

"  '  Then,  of  course,  he  abused  the  peasant  to  his  heart's  con- 


J  O  R  N     U  H  L  33 

tent;  and  at  last  he  said,  "To-morrow  I'll  come  again,  and 
you  and  I  will  have  a  scratching-niatch."  Then  the  poor 
peasant  got  very  frightened.  But  his  wife  noticed  that  he  sat 
all  day  with  his  head  on  his  hands,  looking  very  worried  and 
downhearted,  so  she  said  to  him,  "  What  are  you  brooding  over, 
husband  ?  " 

"'So  he  told  her  all  about  it,  and  said,  "To-morrow  I've 
got  to  scratch  with  the  devil.' 

But  his  wife  said,  "  Just  be  easy,  and  don't  go  worrying 
about  ft.     I'll  manage  him  for  you." 

"  '  Well,  now,  what  was  to  bo  done?  She  sits  herself  down 
and  waits,  and  pretends  to  he  in  a  great  rage.  After  awhile 
along  comes  the  devil  ri;^ht  enough,  and,  says  he,  "  What's  the 
matter  with  you,  little  woman?  "  says  he. 

"  '  "  Oh,  deary  me,  Mr.  Devil,"  says  she,  "  just  look  at  this 
here  great  scar  in  my  beautiful  oak  table.  My  husband  says 
he's  got  a  scratching-match  with  another  man  to-day,  and  so 
he's  been  trying  his  nails  here,  and  has  torn  off  this  great  piece 
with  his  little  finger-nail." 

"  '  The  devil  gave  a  look  toward  the  door,  and  said,  "  Where 
is  he  away  to  now?  " 

W^here  is  he?  "  said  the  woman.     "  Oh!    he's  just  gone 
round  to  the  smithy  to  get  his  nails  sharpened  up  a  bit." 

Then  the  devil  stole  quietly  out,  and  made  off  as  fast  as 
ever  his  legs  would  carry  him.'  " 

During  this  story  Fiete  Cray  and  little  Elsbe  sat  quite  still, 
devouring  Wieten  with  their  eyes.  Jcirn  was  paying  no  atten- 
tion. He  was  trying  to  stand  one  ball  of  wool  on  top  of  another, 
and  kept  on  trying  and  trying,  and  heaved  a  great  sigh  of  relief 
when  he  finally  succeeded. 

"  My  word,  if  he  had  come,"  said  Elsbe,  "  what  a  scratching 
the  peasant  would  have  given  him!  Like  this!  "  and  she  clawed 
the  table  with  her  fingers  and  tried  to  look  terribly  fierce. 

"  There's  not  much  in  those  devil  stories,"  said  Fiete  Cray ; 
"  but  the  little  Earth  Men,  they're  the  sort  of  people  I  like  to 
hear  about.  They're  real  good  and  kind,  too.  They've  made 
many  a  man  rich  for  his  whole  life.  But  the  queer  thing  about 
them  is  that  I've  never  yet  set  eyes  on  one  of  them  —  not  a 
single  one.  Many's  the  time  I've  come  through  the  Heath 
alone  with  my  dogs,  and  on  past  the  Wodansberg.     And  often 


34  JORNUHL 

I've  left  my  cart  standing  while  I  stole  quietly  into  the  wood, 
but  I've  never  seen  anything." 

"  They  live  in  the  Wodansberg,"  said  Eisbe. 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  said  Jorn. 

"  Oh,  30U  believe  nothing  at  all,"  said  Wieten. 

"  Once,"  said  Fiete,  "  it  was  dreadfully  hot,  so  I  left  the  dogs 
standing  in  the  shade  with  the  cart,  not  far  from  the  Wodans- 
berg, where  the  path  turns  off  to  Tunkmoor.  I  went  a  little 
way  into  the  wood,  and  lay  down  on  some  dry  leaves,  not  far 
from  a  big  hazel-bush,  and  there  I  must  have  fallen  asleep. 
Suddenly  I  was  wakened  up  by  a  rustling  among  the  leaves,  and 
just  as  I'd  got  my  eyes  open  it  seemed  to  me  that  three  or  four 
little  people,  a  bit  bigger  than  squirrels,  ran  oft  and  hid  them- 
selves in  the  hazels;  and  a  moment  afterward  I  heard  voices  in 
the  bushes.  It  sounded  as  if  they  were  saying,  'Sleepyhead! 
sleepyhead !  '  I  sat  up  and  looked  around  me,  and  turned  all 
the  leaves  over,  but  not  a  sign  of  gold  was  to  be  seen." 

Wieten  looked  at  him  distrustfully.  Fiete  Cray's  stories 
always  caused  her  a  certain  amount  of  uneasiness.  He  invariably 
contrived  to  give  them  such  a  practical  turn  —  that  was  charac- 
teristic of  the  Grays.  He  was  not  content  that  such  and  such 
a  devil  should  be  out-devilled,  or  that  some  man  or  other,  in 
olden  times,  should  have  got  a  share  of  hidden  treasure,  but  he 
himself,  Fiete  Cray,  was  always  expecting  to  get  hold  of  money 
in  this  way.  He  lay  under  every  bush  and  lurked  behind  every 
tree,  expecting  the  glittering  gold  to  appear. 

Jorn  looks  up  doubtfully  from  his  play,  and  says,  suspiciously: 

"  They  were  squirrels,  of  course ;  and  as  for  what  you  heard, 
it  was  nothing  more  than  some  field-mice  squeaking." 

Fiete  Cray  shook  his  head  disdainfully. 

"If  only  I  knew,"  he  said,  "  how  they  could  be  got  at." 

"  The  woman  in  Schenefeld,"  said  Wieten,  "  where  I  was  in 
service  when  I  was  young,  she  used  to  say  that  the  fairies  had 
all  taken  their  bag  and  baggage,  and  wives  and  children,  and 
had  wandered  off  together  into  another  country." 

"  Is  that  it?  "  said  Fiete.     "  Where  did  they  go  to,  then?  " 

"  Well,  I  can't  exactly  say.  I  fancy  they  moved  to  the 
Vaalermoor  and  round  about  Milstermarsh.  Maybe  they  even 
crossed  the  Elbe.  But  Theodor  Storm  alw^ays  made  out  that 
they  had  come  to    Dittmarsh," 


JORN     UHL  35 

"  Theodor  Storm!  You're  always  talking  about  him;  who 
is  he?  " 

"  Who  is  he?  He  used  to  say  he  was  a  student.  He  often 
used  to  visit  us  at  Schenefeld  —  he  and  a  man  called  Miillen- 
hoff.  They  wasted  God's  precious  hours,  lolling  about  in  all  the 
villages,  and  were  happiest  when  listening  to  some  old  story  or 
other.  lliey  had  their  eye  on  me  in  particular,  because  they 
knew  that  my  mistress  had  a  store  of  such  tales;  but  she 
wouldn't  tell  them  any,  and  so  they  came  to  me.  Every  eve- 
ning, when  I  went  to  the  reed  paddock  to  milk  the  cows,  the 
two  of  them  would  be  standing  there  waiting  to  hear  stories. 
And  while  I  was  talking  they'd  go  and  drink  half  a  bucket  of 
the  milk." 

"  What  did  they  have  to  talk  about,  Wieten?" 

"  I've  told  you  already.  They  thought  they  knew  everything 
better  than  I  did.  There  wasn't  a  single  old  saw  that  Storm 
couldn't  give  you  in  some  different  way,  and  he  used  to  tell 
all  these  stories  differently  from  what  I  do.  He  used  to  say  he 
was  going  to  write  a  book  about  them.  Many  a  time  I've  called 
him  a  young  blockhead,  and  left  him  standing  where  he  was, 
and  marched  off,  milk-pails  and  all." 

Fiete  Cray  looked  knowingly  at  her  through  his  half-shut  eyes. 

"  What  was  his  idea  about  where  the  little  Earth  Men  are?  " 

"What  was  his  idea?  What's  that  got  to  do  with  me?  I 
don't  care  a  snap  for  him  and  his  ideas.  My  mistress  in  Schene- 
feld used  to  tell  the  story  this  way :  '  One  night  the  ferryman 
at  the  Hohner  Ferry  was  called  up  out  of  his  bed,  but  when  he 
gets  outside  he  can't  see  a  living  soul,  so  he  thinks  he  must  have 
been  dreaming,  and  goes  back  to  bed.  Presently  some  sand  or 
earth  is  thrown  against  his  window,  so  up  he  gets  again  and  goes 
out,  and  there,  from  his  house  down  to  the  water's  edge,  the 
ground  was  nothing  but  a  mass  of  tiny,  little  gray  people.  One 
of  them,  with  a  long  beard,  says  to  the  ferryman  he  must  put 
them  across  the  Eider,  as  they  couldn't  stand  the  noise  of  the 
church  folks'  singing  and  the  pealing  of  the  church-bells  any 
longer.  So  they  were  going  to  emigrate  to  the  Marsh-land. 
There  were  no  churches  there  in  those  days. 

The  ferryman  let  go  the  ropes,  and  they  all  came  trooping 
down  to  the  ferry-boat  —  men  and  women  and  children,  beds 
and  pots  and  pans,  and  dishes  of  silver  and  gold ;  all  thronging 
on  one  another's  heels,  till  the  boat  was  packed  full.    And  so  it 


36  JORNUHL 

went  on  the  whole  night  long,  to  and  fro,  load  after  load,  and 
they  never  seemed  to  come  to  an  end.  When  at  last  they  were 
all  over,  and  the  ferryman  was  on  the  return  journey,  he  looked 
back  and  saw  that  the  field  on  the  other  side  was  full  of  thou- 
sands of  lights.  They  had  all  lit  their  little  lanterns,  and  were 
moving  on  toward  the  west. 

"  '  But  next  morning,  when  he  went  down  to  the  ferry,  what 
does  he  see  lying  on  the  edge  of  the  jetty  but  thousands  of  little 
gold  farthings.  Each  of  the  little  men  had  laid  his  fare  down 
there.' 

"  Storm  used  to  maintain  that  they  had  knocked  at  the 
window,  but  I  said  they  threw  sand  against  it.  We  had  a 
great  argument  on  that  point.  So  I  left  him  standing  where  he 
was,  and  took  no  notice  of  what  he  called  out  after  me." 

"What  did  he  call  out,  Wieten?"  asked  Elsbe. 

"  He  wanted  to  tease  me,  and  so  he  kept  on  singing  out, 
'  Don't  waggle  like  that!  Don't  waggle  so,  I  tell  you!  '  But 
when  one  has  a  yoke  to  carry,  with  two  great  big  full  pails  of 
milk,  and  the  yoke  and  pails  both  bound  with  brass-work,  it's 
little  wonder  if  one  gets  a  heavy  tread." 

"  Where  is  this  man  Storm  now?  "  asked  Fiete. 

"  Where  is  Storm  ?  I  fancy  he  said  he  wanted  to  become 
Provost.     He  a  Provost!     He's  never  come  to  anything!  " 

"  Hasn't  he  written  the  book,  either?  " 

"  What,  he?  He  was  that  lazy,  that  once  he  lay  the  whole 
afternoon,  stretched  full  length  in  the  meadows,  from  one  milk- 
ing-time  to  the  next,  and  said  he  did  it  because  the  wood  looked 
so  fine  in  early  leaf.  It's  safe  to  say  that  he's  never  written 
a  book,  and  hasn't  become  Provost,  either." 

"  Jorn  isn't  listening  at  all!  "  said  little  Elsbe,  and  gave  him 
a  poke.     "  Jorn,  listen,  I  tell  you!  " 

"Just  look!"  said  Jorn.  He  had  built  a  bridge  from  the 
work-basket  to  the  table  with  three  pairs  of  scissors  and  Wieten's 
spectacle-case,  and  was  pressing  his  hand  down  on  it  to  show 
how  strong  it  was,  and  looked  around  at  the  others  with  pride 
in  his  eyes. 

"  I  say,  Wieten,  what  did  Storm  have  to  say  about  our  Gold- 
soot?^     Did  he  say  the  same  as  you,  or  something  different?" 

"  I  can  see,"  she  said,  as  she  looked  sharply  at  Fiete  Cray, 
"  you  believe  Storm  sooner  than  me.  You're  always  after  some- 
'  Low  German  soot  —  a  spring,  a  well. 


JORN     UHL  37 

thing  new.  As  to  the  Goldsoot,  I  knew  nothing  about  it  in 
those  days.  I  first  heard  of  it  after  I  had  come  here  and  seen  it." 
Fiete  Cray  leaned  his  head  on  his  hand  and  gazed  at  Wieten. 
His  round,  boyish  eyes,  that  generally  looked  out  on  the  world 
so  archly  and  impudently,  were  now  dreamy  and  far  away.  The 
Goldsoot  lay  not  far  from  the  village  in  a  hollow  on  the  edge 
of  the  Geest.  It  was  his  one  great,  secret  hope. 
"  I  say,  Wieten,  do  tell  us  it  over  again!  " 
"Will  you  believe  me  or  that  lanky  Holsteiner?" 
"  Oh,  you,"  said  Fiete  Cray,  and  struck  the  table  with  his  fist. 
"  Well,  just  listen,  then.  It  was  like  this.  It's  said  that 
here  in  the  neighborhood  there  once  lived  a  very  rich  man,  who 
died  without  having  any  children.  But  one  dark  night,  before 
his  death,  he  went  to  the  hollow  near  the  Geest  slope,  and  threw 
all  his  money  into  the  well.  Now  they  say  that  if  one  pokes 
about  it  with  a  stick,  it  has  a  hollow  sound,  and  some  even  say 
that  if  you  look  down  into  it  you  can  sometimes  see  a  little  gray 
man  sitting  there,  wearing  a  cocked  hat.  That's  so.  And  once 
upon  a  time  three  men  started  ofif  in  the  night,  and  without 
making  a  sound  they  dug  down  in  the  well,  till  suddenly  they 
came  upon  a  big  copper  kettle.  Then  they  laid  a  crowbar  across 
the  hole,  and  fixed  ropes  through  the  handles  of  the  kettle,  and 
wanted  straightway  to  pull  it  up.  Presently  a  huge  load  of  hay 
drawn  by  six  gray  mice  came  up  from  the  marsh  and  galloped 
past  them,  tearing  away  up  toward  Ringelshorn.  They  shut 
their  teeth  together  and  didn't  say  a  word,  but  kept  on  pulling. 
At  last  they  had  the  kettle  almost  at  the  top,  when  a  gray  man 
on  an  old  gray  mare  came  by,  riding  up  from  the  marsh.  He 
bade  them  a  good  evening,  but  they  managed  to  keep  cool,  and 
didn't  utter  a  word.  Then  he  pulled  up  his  mare,  and  asked 
them  whether  he  had  a  chance  of  catching  up  with  tlie  load  of 
hay.  Then  one  of  them  got  angry,  and  said :  *  llie  devil !  It's 
old  cloven-hoof.'  At  the  same  moment  the  crowbar  broke,  and 
down  fell  the  kettle  to  the  bottom  of  the  well,  and  the  gray 
man  vanished." 

"Fiete  got  some  gold  from  the  witch  lately,"  said  Elsbe; 
"  you  know,  the  witch  that  lives  in  the  Hooper  firs."  She  felt 
In  her  pocket  and  produced  a  shining  coin,  and  laid  It  on  the 
table  in  front  of  them.  Fiete  Cray  stared  at  the  money,  and 
then  turned  slowly  around,  like  a  criminal  some  one  takes 
by  the  shoulders,  and  looked  Wieten  in  the  eyes. 


38  JORNUHL 

She  raised  her  hand,  and  said : 

"If  you  carry  on  with  any  more  nonsense,  you'll  feel  these 
stockings  about  jour  ears,  and  good-by  to  your  bread  and  butter, 
once  and  for  all." 

He  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  table  in  front  of  him,  and  was  for  a 
moment  crushed  and  silent.  Then  he  began  to  show  Elsbe  the 
contents  of  his  pockets.  Soon  they  begged  him  to  show  them 
some  of  his  tricks. 

Jorn  pushed  all  his  toys  aside,  string  and  scissors  and  bits  of 
wood,  and  said : 

"Now  for  them,   Fiete!  " 

"A  trick?"  said  Fiete  Cray;  and  while  his  quick  fingers 
were  still  working  under  the  table,  two  bright-colored  pebbles, 
that  he  had  found  as  he  came  along  by  the  sand-pit,  began  to 
fly  backwards  and  forwards  over  the  corner  of  the  table. 

"  And  now  another!  " 

"Another  trick?"  said  Fiete.  He  held  up  his  empty  hands, 
and  put  them  under  the  table  again,  and  directly  afterward 
a  little  gray  animal  with  a  long  tail  slipped,  jump,  jump,  over 
the  corner  of  the  table  toward  Elsbe,  so  that  the  little  thing 
drew  back  with  a  frightened  face.  But  as  it  began  jumping 
across  for  the  second  time,  Jorn  stretched  his  hand  out  for  it, 
and  held  it  up,  laughing  and  saying: 

"  It's  only  Elsbe's  old  pocket-handkerchief!  " 

"  Well,"  said  Wieten,  "  we've  seen  enough  tricks  for  one 
evening.    Now  off  to  bed  with  you!  " 

Without  further  ado  the  three  went  into  the  corner  where 
the  bed  stood,  and  the  two  little  Uhls  began  to  undress  them- 
selves; and  Fiete  had  to  help  little  Elsbe  to  undo  her  clothes 
and  to  take  off  her  stockings  for  her,  and  relate  the  while  all 
that  had  happened  during  his  day's  travels  —  whether  the  big 
dog  had  been  on  the  farm,  and  whether  any  one  had  given 
him  any  dinner,  and  whether  the  boys  in  the  marsh  villages  had 
teased  his  dogs  and  pelted  him  with  stones. 

He  told  them  with  repressed  rage  in  his  voice  how  the  boys 
in  the  marsh  had  again  refused  to  let  him  go  by  in  peace. 

"Couldn't  you  defend  yourself?"  said  Elsbe. 

"No;  they  were  just  coming  out  of  school,  and  suddenly 
they  stood  in  a  ring  around  my  cart." 

"  Were  they  Uhls?  "  asked  Jorn. 


JORNUHL  39 

"  Of  course,  every  man  Jack  of  them  —  from  Dickhusen  and 
Neudeich,  and  all  about  there." 

"  Couldn't  you  make  a  run  for  it?  "  asked  Elsbe. 

"  The  reins  had  got  tangled,  and  so  the  dogs  couldn't  get 
away." 

"  What  did  you  do  then?     Did  they  hit  you?  " 

"  They  didn't  dare  come  right  up  to  me,  because  my  dogs 
would  have  sprung  on  them.  They'd  have  bitten  them,  I  can 
tell  you,  if  they'd  touched  me.  But,  all  the  same,  it  was  pretty 
bad  for  me;    the  stones  were  just  Hying  about  my  head." 

"  Poor  old  Fiete.     Whatever  did  you  do?  " 

"  I  suddenly  thought  of  a  plan.  '  Boys,'  I  said,  '  did  you 
ever  hear  that  story  about  the  owls  and  the  crows?  '^ 

"  '  No,'  they  said. 

"  So  I  said :  *  Well,  listen,  then.  There  were  once  four 
crows  that  sat  in  an  ash-tree,  near  an  old  farm-house.  It 
wasn't  long  before  the  owl  that  lived  there  looked  out  of  his 
door  under  the  eaves  of  the  loft,  and  said  to  them: 

"  '  "  Good  day  to  you." 

"  '  "  Good  day,"  answered  the  crows. 

"  '  "  Have  you  got  any  spare  time?  "  asked  the  owl.  "  Then 
I  can  put  you  in  the  w  ay  of  earning  an  honest  penny." 

"  '  "  Right  you  are!  "  answered  the  four,  for  the  snow  was 
lying  old  and  thick  over  the  whole  country,  and  there  wasn't 
much  to  be  earned. 

"  '  "  My  old  comrade,  old  Tom  Malkin,  is  dead,"  said  the 
owl.  "  Now,  I  was  thinking  you  might  carry  him  to  his  grave. 
When  my  old  friend  was  alive,  he  often  used  to  say  to  me: 
'Jan  Owl,'  he  u  ould  say,  '  you  must  give  me  a  decent  burial. 
A  respectable  life  deserves  a  respectable  funeral,'  he  used  to  say, 
for  he  was  a  highly  cultivated  man.  Now,  look  here,  you  four 
have  good  black  coats  on,  and  are  honest  people  —  " 

"  '  "  Come  along,  then,"  said  the  crows,  and  crept  in  through 
the  owl-hole  after  him  one  by  one. 

"  '  Now,  it  was  pretty  dark  in  the  loft,  and  the  thatched  roof 
was  low,  but  they  could  see  old  Tom  IVIalkin  where  he  lay. 
He  was  lying  in  the  hay,  stretched  at  full  length,  without  a 
move  in  him.     The  owl  took  up  his  post  at  his  friend's  head, 

'  The  pun  on  the  Uhls  and  the  Grays  (the  owls  and  the  crows),  which 
lends  point  to  this  story  in  the  original,  must  be  taken  for  granted  by  the 
English  reader.     It  recurs  throughout  the  book.  —  Translator's  Note. 


40  JORNUHL 

and  the  crows  hopped  along,  all  askew,  just  as  they  do  in  windy 
weather  among  the  young  wheat. 

Many's  the  mouse  we've  caught  in  this  loft  together,  old 
Tom,  that  you  well  know,"  said  the  owl.  "  We've  always  been 
good  friends,  and  many's  the  spree  we've  had  with  one  another. 
But  that's  all  past  and  gone  now.  Oh,  Tom!  Tom,  old  fellow! 
How  you'd  rejoice,  and  what  a  spring  you'd  make,  if  you  were 
only  alive  and  I  said  to  you,  '  Tom,  four  stupid  black  crows 
are  standing  round  you.'  " 

Then  up  sprang  the  tom-cat,  and  there  was  a  crow-hunt, 
the  likes  of  which  you've  never  seen. 

" '  The  first,  he  lost  an  eye, 
The  second  lost  a  leg, 
The  third,  he  got  his  coat  all  torn, 
And  the  fourth  flew  out  of  the  owlet's  hole. 

And  that's  me,'  I  said.  I'd  got  my  ropes  straight,  so  I  jumped 
on  my  cart  and  of^  I  went." 

"  Well,"  said  Wieten,  "  and  now  go  home,  Fiete." 

Then  Fiete  Cray  stole  out  of  the  kitchen  door  and  away 
down  the  path,  and  crept  into  his  father's  humble  cottage. 

And  then  Wieten,  too,  goes  to  bed. 

Toward  midnight,  or  a  little  later,  the  father  and  the  big 
brothers  come  home  from  their  wild  carousing  in  some  inn. 
But  the  children  have  been  asleep  these  three  hours. 


CHAPTER    III. 

When  Dominie  Peters  cast  his  eye  over  the  hundred  children 
of  St.  Mariendonn  sitting  there  at  his  feet  in  two  rows  of 
benches,  —  the  boys  on  the  right,  the  girls  on  the  left,  —  and 
when  about  three  in  the  afternoon  it  began  to  grow  dusk,  as 
it  always  does  in  winter,  then,  1  say,  it  used  to  strike  the  old 
schoolmaster  that  there  were  two  distinct  sorts  of  human  beings 
at  the  Donn.  The  roof  of  thatch  drooped  like  tired  and  heavy 
eyelids  over  the  windows,  and  the  light  came  through  into  the 
schoolroom  in  slanting  meagre  rays.  In  this  silent  slanting 
twilight  you  could  spy,  here  and  there  among  the  children,  a 
sprinkling  of  round  red  heads,  with  freckles  so  intense  and  hair 
so  fiery  red  that  they  seemed  to  emit  a  kind  of  light.  And  this 
halo-gleam  of  hair  grew  brighter,  and  this  dull  sheen  more  vivid, 
when  these  eyes,  shrewd  and  quick,  or  furtive  and  restless, 
began  their  play;  it  was  like  so  many  kittens  gambolling  in 
sunshine.      Those  were  the  Grays  and  their  kin. 

But  you  also  saw  scattered  among  the  round  red  heads  others 
not  so  numerous  —  bo\'s  and  girls  with  narrow  faces  and  fair 
skin,  and  with  hair  as  fair  as  fields  of  rye  just  before  the  reap- 
ing; faces  of  strong  and  often  noble  lineaments,  with  steady, 
clear,  proud  eyes.  When  one  of  these  light-haired  children  left 
his  seat,  his  gait  revealed  a  small,  well-knit  frame,  full  of  lithe- 
ness  and  strength.    Those  were  the  Uhls  and  their  kin. 

Pastor  Petrus  Momme  Lobedanz,  who  had  the  care  of  souls 
in  St.  Mariendonn  some  hundred  and  fifty  years  back,  used  to 
w^onder  even  in  his  day  at  this  marked  distinction.  For  on  the 
last  pages  of  a  baptismal  register,  which  he  had  filled  with 
names,  he  has  written  down  certain  thoughts  and  observations 
as  follows: 

"The  little  thorps  that  are  built  along  the  sides  and  on  the 
slopes  of  the  Geest  are  nearly  all  called  by  the  name  of  Donn. 
In  order  to  distinguish  them  one  from  another,  however,  cer- 

41 


1.2  JORNUHL 

tain  of  the  thorps  are  called  after  the  wealthy  villages  which  lie 
in  front  of  them ;  others,  again,  whose  existence  dates  further 
back,  and  which  have  a  church  of  their  own,  are  called  after 
Catholic  saints.     Thus  this  village  is  called  St.  Mariendonn. 

"  To  the  right  and  left  of  the  village  the  dune  rises  steep 
and  unbroken,  covered  thick  with  heath  and  bracken,  but  at  the 
spot  where  the  village  stands  it  is  all  scooped  and  hollowed  out. 
It  is  as  if  multitudes  of  children  had  been  playing  there,  and 
had  undermined  the  sand-hills.  It  is  the  Grays  who  have  thus, 
in  the  course  of  centuries,  burrowed  and  scooped  out  this 
mighty  sand-hill,  and  have  built  their  dwellings  into  it  and 
worn  it  down.     For  the  Grays  are  a  restless  race. 

"  And  since  the  land  where  they  dwell  is  so  light  and  sandy 
that  sometimes  in  dry  weather  their  gardens  are  blown  like 
driven  snow  against  their  house-walls,  and  they  are  thus  pre- 
vented from  gaining  sustenance  from  the  soil,  and  since,  more- 
over, they  have  little  opportunity  and  still  less  inclination  for 
steady  work  as  hired  laborers,  they  have  come  to  be  a  race  of 
wandering  pedlars  and  dealers,  known  in  all  the  country-side. 

"  Every  Monday  morning,  when  the  sun  rises,  I  stand  on 
the  Ringelshorn  and  look  over  toward  St.  Mariendonn,  and 
watch  the  Grays  taking  flight.  Some,  with  bundles  and  baskets 
on  their  shoulders,  wander  up  toward  the  villages  on  the  Geest. 
With  backs  bent  double  you  see  them  plunging  the  long  staff 
on  which  they  lean  into  the  sand  in  front  of  them.  Others  go 
down  into  the  marsh  villages  with  their  little  carts  drawn  by 
dogs.  The  wealthiest  among  them  will  harness  some  stiff- 
jointed,  rough-haired  jade  of  a  horse  to  a  ramshackle  cart,  and 
disappear.  Toward  the  end  of  the  week  they  all  fly  home  to 
their  nests  again,  and  have  always  sold  out  their  wares,  nay, 
have  mostly  purchased  something  fresh  into  the  bargain.  One, 
who  went  out  with  haberdashery,  comes  back  with  a  spavined 
horse ;  another,  whose  cart  departed  stiff  with  the  bristles  of 
brushes,  returns  with  a  load  of  basket-willows;  a  third,  who 
drove  down  to  the  Watt  to  the  crab-fishing,  has  got  hold  of  an 
old  chest  from  some  one  on  his  way  through  some  marsh  thorp 
or  other. 

"  But  they  are  sturdy  folk,  and  I  won't  hear  anything  said 
against  them.  I  have  been  intimate  friends  with  many  a  one  of 
them,  and  am  so  still  with  some.    I  won't  hear  them  run  down ; 


JORNUHL  43 

for  I  myself,  on  the  side  of  my  grandmother,  who  was  a  Nuttel- 
mann  by  birth,  have  Cray  blood  in  me. 

"  'Tis  said  of  them,  I  confess,  that  away  from  home  they're 
not  such  strict  and  God-fearing  folk  in  their  dealings  as  they 
are  at  home  among  themselves  on  Sundays.  Here  in  their  own 
village,  especially,  they  are  honest,  sober  people  enough,  and 
even  pique  themselves  on  their  fear  of  God  and  their  regular 
church-going;  and  they  will  boast  to  me  of  their  lively  interest 
in  God's  word.  But  I,  alas!  I  am  but  a  weak  man,  and  do  not 
like  to  tell  the  boaster  straight  to  his  face:  *  Man!  don't  you 
know  that  the  whole  country-side  has  a  saying,  "  As  honest  as  a 
Cray  on  Sunday? 

"  Folk  about  here  say  that  a  Donn  Cray  has  never  yet  been 
known  to  buy  hay  and  oats  for  his  horse;  they  just  let  their 
beasties  graze  in  lonely  spots  by  the  roadside  and  in  the  pasture- 
lands,  while  they  themselves  are  taking  their  noonday  nap  be- 
neath the  roof  of  their  wagon.  And  when  a  Cray  is  summoned 
before  a  court,  it's  always  a  court  outside  his  own  parish,  and  he 
is  always  the  accused  and  never  the  accuser.  But  when  such  a 
one  comes  to  me,  to  get  his  baptismal  certificate  in  order  to 
prove  his  identity  before  the  court,  and  I  ask  him  what  it  is 
he's  accused  of,  he  is  sure  to  allege  either  the  maliciousness  or 
the  error  of  the  accuser  as  the  cause  of  all  the  trouble. 

"  And  when  the  accused  doesn't  come  home  after  the  trial, 
but  mysteriously  vanishes  for  several  weeks,  as  if  the  earth  had 
swallowed  him  up,  and  I  meet  his  wife  at  church  and  I  ask  her, 
'Antj'  Katrien,  where  is  your  husband?'  then  she'll  look  me 
straight  in  the  face,  and  say,  '  Oh,  he's  just  away  to  Hamburg, 
minister,  doing  a  little  shopping!  '  Then  my  weak  nature  shows 
itself  again,  and  I  don't  venture  to  say  anything  to  her.  In 
the  marshes,  though,  they  have  a  jest  about  a  man  serving  his 
time  in  gaol,  and  say  of  such  a  one:  'Oh,  he's  just  away  to 
Hamburg  doing  a  little  shopping!  ' 

"  These  are  things  that  weigh  heavy  upon  my  heart,  et  animi 
semper  <fger  sum.  But  it's  the  more  unpleasant  to  me,  because 
they've  got  a  report  abroad  in  the  marshes  that  I  have  pledged 
my  word  never  to  tell  the  Crays  of  their  dishonesty.  And  in 
return,  I  am  said  to  get  tithe  of  all  the  profits  they  make  on  their 
peddling  excursions.  And  they  have  a  saying,  too:  *  "  Let's  skip 
that,"  as  the  minister  of  St.  Mary's  said,  when  the  youngster 
at  school  was  going  to  recite  the  seventh  commandment.' 


44  JORNUHL 

"  Now,  what  is  the  origin  of  such  anitni  rectio?  where  do 
they  get  such  a  disposition  ?  Roundabout  here  it's  said  to 
come  from  the  Grays  having  gipsy  blood  in  them.  Their  an- 
cestor, it  is  said,  was  a  strong  devil-may-care  fellow,  and  a  great 
boaster  to  boot,  and  is  said  to  have  picked  up  with  a  gipsy  girl, 
whose  troop  had  camped  during  a  sand-storm  near  the  Haze 
Wood  pines,  on  the  edge  of  Woden's  Heath. 

"  In  the  marriage  that  followed  —  that  is,  if  there  was  any 
marriage  —  it  is  said  that  this  gipsy  spouse  was  too  much  for 
him,  and  that  he  led  a  henpecked  and  troubled  life.  He  had 
to  live  in  a  cave  with  her,  because  she  couldn't  bear  to  live  in 
a  proper  house.  Whilst  she  went  gadding  about  through  the 
marsh  villages,  fortune-telling,  haggling,  and  begging,  he  had  to 
cook  the  food,  feed  the  goats,  and  mow  heath  for  the  winter 
firing.  She  used  always  to  call  him  her  '  pet  lamb,'  and  must 
have  thoroughly  tamed  him  down.  It  was  from  this  strange 
couple,  then,  that  folks  say  the  Craj^s  are  descended. 

"  But  I  always  maintain  that  this  statement  of  the  case  is  due 
to  the  folly  of  the  marsh-folk,  and  is  naught  but  the  hooting 
and  clamor  of  the  Uhls.  For  as  long  as  ever  folk  can  re- 
member, the  Uhls  have  looked  down  on  the  Grays. 

"  I  think  it's  much  more  likely  that  the  Grays  are  descendants 
of  the  Wends,  who  are  said  to  have  carried  their  invasions  right 
into  our  country  in  olden  times.  The  following  facts  have  led 
me  to  this  conclusion:  first,  the  round,  red-haired  heads,  and  the 
oblique  eyes,  which  almost  all  of  them  have;  second,  that  at  the 
western  end  of  the  village,  toward  Woden's  Heath,  below 
Ringelshorn,  there  lie  three  houses  apart  from  the  rest  — 
namely,  the  school,  the  old  farmhouse  of  the  Uhls,  and  the 
cabin  of  Simon  Gray,  and  the  three  together  go  under  the  name 
of  Wentorf,  which  one  can  easily  see  might  mean  thorp  of  the 
Wends.  Last  and  third,  that  near  Wentorf,  close  to  Ringels- 
horn, there  lie  old  earthen  ramparts,  the  remnants  of  fortifica- 
tions,—  ?nea  opinione,  —  around  which  the  children  of  the 
Grays  and  the  Uhls  still  have  their  fighting-grounds. 

"  Of  the  Uhls,  there's  not  much  to  be  said,  except  that  they 
dwell  in  the  marshes  on  their  broad  acres,  and  have  hair  as  light 
as  rye-straw,  which  in  the  case  of  their  women  often  looks 
beautiful  enough,  and  that  they  are  a  long-limbed,  sturdy,  and 
arrogant  race.  Quite  recently,  one  of  them  got  into  a  brawl 
in  the  inn  at  Wentorf  on  market-day,  and  when  some  one  said, 


JORNUHL  45 

'Oh,  yes,  you  are  an  Uhl!  You  are  an  Uhl!  You  can  do 
anythinjj;  you  like,  can't  you?  '  There  he  stood  in  the  middle  of 
the  room,  and  slapped  his  hand  on  his  breast,  and  cried,  '  Yes,  1 
am  an  Uhl!     An  Uhl,  1  say!     And  1  thank  God  for  it!  ' 

"  The  Uhls  despise  the  Grays,  and  the  whole  year  round 
salute  them  neither  with  nod  nor  bow.  Only  once  in  the  year, 
at  Shrovetide,  when  the  whole  country-side  gives  itself  up  to 
woful  buffoonery  and  heavy  toping  —  then  do  the  Uhls  harness 
up  their  horses,  pack  flitches  of  bacon  and  pots  of  butter  into 
the  straw  in  the  bottom  of  their  carts,  and  drive  over  to  St. 
Mariendonn,  some  with  their  wives,  others  without  them,  and 
carouse  with  the  Grays,  and  are  hail-fellow-well-met  with  them, 
going  arm  and  arm  with  them  from  house  to  house.  They  call 
that  '  yorting.'  For  a  whole  week,  St.  Mary's  rings  with  shout- 
ing and  singing.  And  they're  all  so  good-humored  and  brotherly 
with  one  another,  that  it's  often  a  hard  task  for  me  not  to  join 
them,  and  sometimes  I've  turned  the  corner  and  gone  in  for  a 
little  frolic  together  with  them,  in  finibus  pastoratibus.  But  on 
the  seventh  or  eighth  day  their  cudgels  come  into  play,  and  a 
terrible  row  begins.  The  last  fight  is  always  at  Ringelshorn ; 
from  thence  the  last  of  the  Uhls  are  driven  back  down  into  the 
marshes.  Then  the  Grays  can  call  St.  Mariendonn  their  own 
again. 

"  I  cannot  bear  the  Uhls.  I  tremble  every  time  one  of  them 
comes  up  to  the  manse,  and  I  am  glad  that  there  are  not  such 
a  great  nuniber  of  them  in  my  parish.  Every  minister  that 
dwells  in  the  marshes  complains  about  them.  But  I,  quamquam 
saepe  ab  his  colleg'is  vexatus,  rejoice  when  I  look  down  from 
my  pidpit,  of  a  Sunday,  and  see  these  red  roundheads,  this  folk 
of  dealers  in  rags  and  brushes  and  brooms,  this  Gray  folk,  all 
seated  in  front  of  me." 

Thus  far  the  baptismal  register.  Goncerning  Pastor  Petrus 
Lobedanz's  reliability  and  judgment,  there  is  nowadays  nothing 
further  known. 

Fritz ^  Gray  seldom  went  to  school.  His  father,  Jasper  Gray, 
had  always  some  excuse  or  other  ready.  Sometimes  he  said  he 
couldn't  do  without  the  lad  to  help  him,  sometimes  he  said 
Fritz  had  no  boots.  So  it  came  about  that  he  hardly  went  to 
school  at  all,  except  in  winter,  when  Wieten  would  come  run- 

'  Low  German  :  Fiete. 


46  JORNUHL 

ning  over  to  the  Cra5's'  house  of  a  morning,  while  it  was  still 
dark,  saying:  "There's  so  much  snow  on  the  ground  that  I 
can't  let  the  children  go  alone.  Fiete  must  go  with  thein  to- 
day." Then  Fiete  would  jump  out  of  bed,  put  on  his  old  patched 
jacket,  and  begin  with  much  kicking  and  stamping  to  pull  on 
his  big  boots.  But  the  old  man  would  growl:  "  I  tell  you,  I 
can't  spare  the  lad  to-day."  "You  can't,  can't  you?"  Wieten 
would  ask,  viciously.  .  .  .  "Then  I  suppose  FU  have  to  buy 
him  out,  as  usual."  She  laid  the  three  pennies  on  the  table, 
which  she  had  ready  in  her  hand  all  the  time.  According  to 
an  old  compact  between  them,  the  son  got  one,  and  the  father 
two.     So  she  went  with  the  lad  to  the  Uhl. 

The  three  trudged  off  through  the  snow;  Fritz  Cray  ahead 
as  pioneer.  At  almost  every  step  he  turned  around.  He  turned 
around  so  often  that,  counting  the  whole  way,  he  must  have 
gone  further  backwards  than  forwards.  So  much  did  he  have 
to  say. 

Now  they  were  all  there:  a  hundred  children,  and  Dominie 
Peters  stood  behind  the  school-desk.  The  singing  and  the 
prayers  were  over.  And  school  was  to  begin.  But  at  this  mo- 
ment there  arose  a  disturbance  at  the  boys'  end  of  the  room,  just 
where  a  number  of  Crays  shone  in  a  compact  reddish  glow. 

"What's  the  matter  there?"  asked  Dominie  Peters. 

"  He's  twisted  hisself." 

"  What's  that  you  say?  " 

"  It's  Tonjes  Cray  from  Siiderdonn,  who  was  looking  out 
the  window,  and  can't  get  his  head  straight  again." 

"  Come,  come,  now!  " 

The  lad  sat  there,  with  his  head  all  askew,  and  pulling  a  most 
pitiful  face;  he  kept  opening  his  mouth  wide  and  then  shutting 
it  again. 

It  must  be  noted  that  his  mother  had  last  night  been  telling 
him  of  a  boy  she  had  known  in  her  young  days,  whose  tongue 
used  at  times  to  loll  from  his  mouth,  like  that  of  a  dog  exhausted 
by  running  in  the  dry  east  wind,  and  he  had  only  been  able  to  get 
it  back  into  its  place  by  catching  himself  by  the  throat  and  pull- 
ing downwards.     This  strange  lad  had  naturally  been  a  Cray. 

Dominie  Peters  is  not  a  man  to  be  joked  with;  he  had  his 
eye  on  the  youngster  at  once. 

"  My  lad,"  he  said,  threateningly,  "  turn  your  head  straight." 


J  O  R  N     U  H  L  47 

But  the  boy  sprang  straight  upright,  and  kept  gazing  with  head 
askew  at  the  window,  and  bellowing,  "  1  can't,  sir!    I  can't." 

Peters  shakes  his  head  at  this  fresh  Cray  enigma,  and  looks 
around  helpless. 

Then  he  notices  that  Fiete  Cray,  whom  he  hasn't  perceived 
before,  is  standing  up  in  his  seat.  "  I  can!  "  says  Fiete.  "  What, 
you,  Fiete?     Well,  my  lad,  then  go  over  to  him." 

Fiete  Cray  left  his  seat.  All  eyes  were  directed  toward  him. 
He  was  wearing  a  sort  of  satinet  suit,  grayish  brown,  and 
patched  all  over,  and  his  trousers  weic  stuck  into  his  heavy  top- 
boots.  He  placed  himself  in  front  of  his  cousin,  as  though  he 
were  going  to  speak  to  him  very  solemnly.  But  of  a  sudden  he 
raised  his  hand  and  dealt  him  a  smart  box  on  the  ears,  so  that  the 
head  —  willy-nilly  —  made  a  movement  of  fear,  and  became  60 
movable  that  its  owner  could  take  it  in  both  hands,  and  howl  and 
weep.  With  measured  heavy  steps  Fiete  Cray  went  back  to  his 
place. 

Fiete  Cray  was  by  no  means  a  shining  light  of  learning  in  the 
school.  What  he  gathered  of  experience  on  his  peddling  ex- 
cursions through  the  marsh  and  Geest  was  coarse-grained,  real- 
istic ware,  and  hardly  of  much  use  to  him  in  school  work,  which 
concerns  itself  with  the  realm  of  the  ideal.  What  he  heard  of 
an  evening  from  Wieten  Klook  was  old  fantastic  folk-lore,  a  sort 
of  wisdom  for  which  Dominie  Peters  —  who  was  a  practical 
man,  with  some  money  saved  and  put  out  at  interest  —  had  no 
sympathy.  And,  besides,  the  folk-lore  that  Fiete  Cray  imbibed 
had  come  to  have  a  wild,  romantic  Indian  touch  about  it,  in 
keeping  with  the  true  Cray  nature.  But  as  he  used  all  his 
practical  experience  with  a  sort  of  paternal  benevolence  for  the 
good  of  oppressed  justice  or  endangered  discipline,  the  gaps  in 
his  book-learning  came  to  be  overlooked,  and,  in  spite  of  his 
irregular  attendance  at  school,  he  had  got  a  certain  reputation 
with  teacher  and  scholars  alike. 

The  big  pupils  were  sprawled  over  their  slates,  tapping 
gently,  whispering,  reckoning,  and  writing  down  figures. 

"Third  class!  We'll  now  have  sentence-building.  .  .  . 
Who'll  make  the  first  sentence?" 

A  little  Cray  stands  up:    "  On  our  farm  we  have  one  cow." 

"  Repeat  together!  " 

They  all  say  it  in  a  loud,  shrill  voice,  each  syllable  distinct. 


48  JORNUHL 

Those  who  have  no  cows  say:  "  On  our  farm  we  have  none." 
So  it  goes  on.    Poverty  says  "  None."    Well-to-do  says  "  One." 

Jorn  Uhl  soon  noticed  that  he  always  said  "  one,"  and  never 
"  none."  Nay,  when  the  son  of  Peter  Wick,  one  of  the  Uhls, 
made  the  sentence,  "  We  have  no  stallions,"  and  all  repeated 
it,  then  he,  Jorn  Uhl,  the  only  one  in  the  whole  school,  big  as 
it  was,  was  able  to  say,  —  and  he  said  it  loud  and  clear,  —  "  We 
have  a  stallion  .  .  .  and  a  bull."  The  clause  he  added,  un- 
fortunately, somewhat  spoilt  the  effect.  For  many  others  had 
bulls.  But  it  none  the  less  caused  great  excitement,  especially 
as  Lorenz  Cray's  little  girl,  whose  father  had  a  large  family, 
immediately  afterward  made  the  sentence:  "We  have  no  flour 
in  the  bin."  Hereupon  the  teacher  proposed  they  should  take 
another  kind  of  sentence.  "  We  have  read  in  the  Bible  about 
a  king  called  David.     Now,  what's  the  name  of  our  king?  " 

Then  the  little  girl  Cray,  Lorenz  Cray's  girl,  stood  up  again, 
—  the  little  blockhead,  —  all  eager  to  answer,  and  said  :  "  Our 
king's  name  is  Klaus  Uhl." 

The  stallion  had  won  the  day  for  the  Uhls.  The  bigger 
scholars  laughed,  the  younger  ones  were  dumfounded.  But 
nobody  had  anything  against  it.  The  sentence  was  repeated  in 
the  usual  way  by  the  class. 

But  when  Dominie  Peters  turned  around  and  was  going  away 
up  the  passage  the  children  called  out:  "The  Provost  is  up." 
Sure  enough,  there  was  Jorn  Uhl  standing  in  his  place,  with 
indignant  face. 

"What  is  it,  Jiirgen?" 

"  My  father  is  not  a  king." 

"  Very  well,  we  must  allow  you  to  know,"  said  the  old  man. 
When  the  children  left  the  room,  he  saw  that  the  little  dark- 
headed  mite,  Elsbe  Uhl,  remained  sitting  on  her  form,  and  that 
she  had  laid  her  head  upon  the  desk,  and  was  sobbing  as  if  her 
heart  would  break.  He  went  up  to  her  and  asked,  "  What  are 
you  crying  about,  Elsbe?"  After  many  attempts  to  speak,  she 
said,  "  My  father  is  a  king."  As  he  was  turning  away  from 
her,  smiling,  he  saw  Jorn  Uhl  standing  near  with  angry  eyes. 
He  caught  hold  of  the  lad  by  his  stiff  flaxen  hair,  and  said, 
"  Tell  me,  why  did  you  say  your  father  wasn't  a  king?  " 

"  Often  he  can't  stand  straight." 

"  What's  that?     He  can't  stand?  " 

"  No,  because  he  often  gets  drunk." 


J  O  R  N     U  H  L  49 

The  old  man  bit  his  lips  and  looked  at  the  boy  with  com- 
passion. "So  that's  it!  So  that's  why  he's  not  a  king?  liut 
hark,  laddie,  you  mustn't  say  that  to  the  other  boys.  But  do 
you  know  what?  You  must  make  up  your  mind  to  grow  up 
hard-working  and  sober." 

The  children's  yearly  festival  was  a  great  day  —  a  much 
greater  day  than  Christmas.  All  the  Uhls  in  the  parish  always 
looked  forward  to  it  with  greatest  zest,  and  the  Grays,  too, 
were  by  no  means  indifferent  to  its  delights. 

Who  has  ever  taken  part  in  those  children's  feasts  at  St. 
Mariendonn,  I  say?  Uhl  or  Cray,  let  him  stand  up  and  confess 
that  he  has  never  seen  the  like  of  them  for  splendor  and  gran- 
deur in  any  other  place  in  the  whole  of  merry  Germany. 

Now  P'ietc  Cray  had  first  of  all  asked  Anna  Seemann  to 
walk  with  him  in  the  procession  through  the  village  to  the  king's 
dance,  as  it  was  called ;  but  afterward  Trina  Biesterfeld  of 
Siiderdonn  had  heard  that  Fiete  Cray  would,  on  that  day,  be 
wearing  a  real  line  suit  of  clothes,  which  his  father  had  picked 
up  second-hand  at  some  farmer's.  So  she  offered  Fiete  Cray 
a  threepenny  bit  if  he  would  jilt  Anna  Seemann  and  walk  with 
her.  He  agreed  —  that  is,  after  she  had  given  him  a  two- 
bladed  penknife,  which  she  happened  to  have,  into  the  bargain. 
And,  besides  that,  she  had  to  promise  to  make  him  a  blue  sash 
for  the  festival.  But  after  managing  his  own  affairs  so  satis- 
factorily, Fiete  Cray  began  poking  his  nose  into  other  people's 
business,  too,  as  was  always  the  way  with  him,  and  wanted 
to  arrange  about  a  sweetheart  for  his  mate  and  neighbor,  Jorn 
Uhl,  too,  and  made  a  great  mull  of  it.  Both  parties  would  have 
nothing  to  do  with  him.  At  playtime  he  spoke  to  fat  little  Dora 
Diek,  and  promised  her  she  should  have  "  smart  Jiirgen  Uhl," 
and  hinted,  moreover,  that  he  expected  a  few  pence  as  prize- 
money  if  the  matter  came  off.  But  she  said  no,  she'd  rather  in- 
vest her  money  in  lemonade  than  in  sweethearts.  And  she  stuck 
to  her  decision,  in  spite  of  all  Fiete  Cray's  persuasive  arts. 

In  after  years,  when  she  was  twenty,  she  looked  at  the  com- 
parative worth  of  things  from  an  entirely  different  standpoint. 
She  visited  all  the  fairs  and  dances  of  the  country-side,  seeking 
for  the  sweetheart  she  could  not  find. 

But  Jiirgen  Uhl  didn't  answer  to  the  helm,  either.  For  the 
first  time  he  flatly  refused  to  obey  his  leader's  orders,  and  tolJ 


50  JORNUHL 

Fi'ete,  with  remarkable  decision  in  his  tone,  that  he  wasn't  going 
to  let  sweethearts  be  palmed  off  on  him ;  he  would  choose  one 
for  himself. 

He  stood  three  evenings,  one  after  the  other,  in  the  pouring 
rain,  under  the  eaves  of  the  schoolhouse,  and  waited  for  little 
Lisbeth  Junker,  Dominie  Peters's  grandchild,  to  come  out.  It 
was  she  he  was  going  to  ask. 

On  the  third  evening  she  really  came,  and  ran  swiftly  through 
the  rain  across  the  street  to  the  store.  Her  short  skirts  flew  up 
as  she  ran,  and  her  blue  garters  could  be  seen.  When  she  was 
on  her  way  back,  she  caught  sight  of  him  from  a  distance,  and 
cried  over  to  him:  "What  are  you  standing  there  in  the  rain 
for,  Jiirgen?     Have  you  been  kept  in?" 

"  No,"  said  he,  "  I've  just  been  waiting  for  you.  I  wanted  to 
ask  you  something." 

She  came  bounding  toward  him,  and  nestled  close  up  to  him 
so  that  she  shouldn't  get  wet.  And  she  pressed  so  close  to  him 
that  she  had  to  cling  to  his  arm,  and  to  look  up  into  his  face 
when  she  spoke. 

A  stranger  was  driving  up  the  street,  and  saw  the  two  chil- 
dren standing  there,  and  thought  what  a  pretty  sight  it  was, 
and  made  his  horses  go  slower  as  he  drove  past  them. 

"  What  was  it  you  wanted  to  ask  me,  Jorn?  " 

"  Oh,  about  the  pigeon-shooting,  you  know.  We're  soon 
going  to  have  pigeon-shooting  again;    aren't  we?  " 

"Well?" 

"  Why  .  .  .  and  then  I  must  have  some  girl  to  walk  with, 
and  .  .  .  and  I  don't  know  about  whom  to  take.  Of  course, 
it's  all  the  same  whom  I  take.     What  do  you  think,  Lisbeth  ?  " 

"  Oh,  and  that's  what  jou  wanted  to  ask  me  about?  I  don't 
know  about  that,  Jorn.  It's  not  so  easy  to  say.  You're  so  big. 
.  .  .  Do  you  know  what?  Take  Trina  Siem,  or  —  let  me  think 
—  take  Jule  Uhl.  Or  take  ,  .  .  No,  but  she's  too  little  for  you." 

"  Whom  are  you  thinking  of?  " 

"  Oh,  it  just  occurred  to  me;  but  she's  really  too  little  for 
you. 

"  Just  out  with  it,  Lisbeth.  It's  all  one,  little  or  big,  even  if 
she  were  as  tiny  as  you.   Now  tell  me  whom  you're  thinking  of?" 

"  Oh!    I've  forgotten,"  said  she. 

And  as  she  spoke,  she  let  go  his  arm  and  sprang  out  into  the 
rain,  stopped  and  looked  back  once  in  her  flight,  and  then  turned 


JORN     U  H  L  51 

as  though  some  one  had  taken  her  by  the  shoulders  and  spun 
her  around,  and  ran  away  home. 

He  was  mad  after  Lisbeth  Junker,  and  was  in  fear  and 
trembling  lest  some  one  should  come  before  him  in  her  favor. 
And  he  hadn't  the  courage  to  ask  her,  for  he  thought  she  would 
laugh  at  him,  and  say,  "  No,  Jiirgen,  do  you  think  I'd  do  that? 
I'll  never  go  with  you  to  the  king's  dance."  And  thus  he  let 
the  opportunity  slip.  A  few  days  before  the  festival,  as  he  and 
shy  little  Dierk  Dierksen  were  at  the  schoolhouse  for  private 
lessons.  Dominie  Peters  said:  "  Dirk,  my  lad,  I'd  like  Lisbeth 
to  take  part  in  the  procession  the  day  after  to-morrow.  I  think 
she  might  walk  along  with  you  in  it."  Dierk  Dierkson  got  a 
cuffing  from  Jorn  Uhl  when  they  were  outside;  but  that  didn't 
alter  the  matter  a  jot. 

And  so  he  was  left  without  a  sweetheart,  and  on  the  day  of 
the  festival  had  to  walk  beside  a  freckled  little  Cray,  whom 
nobody  else  had  cared  to  ask.  His  father,  who  was  walking 
near  the  procession,  looked  at  him  with  contempt,  and  his  three 
big  brothers  laughed  at  him  maliciously.  Jorn  walked  with 
lips  compressed,  and  proud  face,  and  remained  silent.  The  sun 
was  shining,  and  a  light  wind  came  in  puffs  from  across  the 
heath.  Flecks  of  bright  yellow  light  pierced  through  the  leafy 
linden-trees,  gambolling  and  flitting  about  the  streets,  and 
playing  on  the  streaming  hair  of  the  maidens.  And  the  linden 
blossoms  fell  on  them  as  they  passed. 

Who  has  ever  taken  part  in  those  children's  festivals  in  St. 
Mariendonn  ?  w^hether  he  be  Uhl  or  Cray,  let  him  stand  up  and 
say  now:  Whose  hair  was  it  that  gleamed  and  shimmered 
brightest?  Hair  that  was  dark  and  fair  by  turns,  according  as 
the  lights  fell  on  it,  and  her  figure  in  the  white  dress  looked 
beautiful  and  tall,  and  her  face  white  and  red,  as  though  a  drop 
of  blood  had  fallen  into  whitest  snow.  That  was  Lisbeth 
Junker.  And  she  walked  in  the  procession  in  front  of  Jiirgen 
Uhl,  and  now  and  again  looked  around  and  smiled  to  him. 
And  he  said :  "  There's  ever  so  many  linden  blossoms  fallen 
into  your  hair,  Lisbeth." 

Who  is  the  little  brunette,  that  is  such  a  madcap  over  there, 
so  restless  and  happy  —  a  little  too  short,  though,  a  little  too 
broad,  a  little  too  wild,  a  little  too  noisy?  That  is  Elsbe  Uhl. 
and  she  is  walking  in  front  of  Fiete  Cray,  and  now  and  again 
she  looks  around,  laughing  and  nodding  to  him.     But  to-day 


52  JORNUHL 

she  is  not  speaking  to  him;  for  to-day  she  is  a  rich  yeoman's 
daughter,  and  he  only  a  poor  man's  son.  And  by  her  side  walks 
her  partner,  Harro  Heinsen,  one  of  the  Uhls,  too,  a  big,  strap- 
ping fellow.  He  is  already  over  fourteen,  and  is  beginning  to 
look  down  a  little  on  the  children's  festival.  He  commences 
every  sentence  with,  "  As  soon  as  I'm  confirmed,"  for  at  con- 
firmation boys  are  put  into  long  trousers,  and  their  voices  have 
changed.  So  Harro  entertains  his  little  companion  with  all  sorts 
of  would-be  wise  talk. 

Who,  I  say,  has  ever  taken  part  in  those  children's  festivals 
in  St.  Mariendonn?  Be  he  Uhl  or  Cray,  let  him  stand  up  and 
answer,  What  course  did  the  procession  take?  —  why,  it  passed 
through  the  lower  village  street.  There  is  a  good  marsh  soil,  and 
on  both  sides  of  the  way  stand  sturdy  young  linden-trees,  whose 
tops  almost  touch  from  side  to  side.  And  who  went  on  ahead 
of  the  procession?  Why!  a  drummer  and  a  fifer.  The  whole 
country-side  knows  both  men  well.  For  they  usually  hawk 
red-herrings. 

Who  was  that  walking  by  the  side  of  the  procession?  That 
was  Dominie  Peters,  with  his  white  hair,  a  lank  and  gaunt  and 
grave  figure.  Who  were  the  people  walking  by  the  wayside, 
under  the  linden-trees?  Those  were  the  grown-up  Uhls,  with 
festive  faces  red  with  wine.  And  if  their  sins  against  their 
wives  and  their  children  and  against  themselves  have  been 
grave  and  manifold  enough,  in  this,  at  least,  lies  something  to 
their  credit,  that  if  they  indulged  themselves  with  frequent  fes- 
tivals, neither  did  they  begrudge  such  days  to  their  children. 
And  who  were  the  people  walking  on  the  other  side  of  the  road? 
Those  were  the  Grays,  husbands  and  wives,  all  alike  proud  of 
their  children. 

And  who  was  it  that  was  standing  in  front  of  the  inn,  you 
know  the  old  thatch-roofed  inn,  as  the  procession  came  up?  It 
was  Ernst  Rapp,  the  host  of  the  Wheatsheaf,  and  he  was  stand- 
ing there  calling  loudly  through  the  door  to  his  son,  in  a  mixture 
of  Saxon  and  Low  German  (f(jr  he  was  not  a  native  of  those 
parts),  "  Fritz!  come  down-stairs.  The  farmers  are  coming! 
You  must  blow  'em  a  tune!  "  And  out  sprang  the  fat  and 
stalwart  Fritz,  and  blew  a  merry  melody  on  his  trumpet.  So 
they  all  proceeded  to  the  great  dancing  floor.  The  children 
leading,  then  came  the  Uhls,  then  the  Grays. 

Up  in  the  corn-loft  over  the  stables  the  children  were  in  the 


JORNUHL  53 

mazes  of  the  dance,  and,  as  happens  every  year,  the  girls  were 
once  again  a  h'ttle  anxious  and  frightened;  for  there  has  been 
a  rumor  for  the  last  twenty  years,  at  least,  that  the  corn-loft 
floor  is  weak,  and  inay  collapse  any  day. 

I'hc  two  sellers  of  herrings  are  hard  at  it,  with  drum  and  fife. 

How  the  feet  are  going  .  .  .  tripp,  trapp,   trapp.  .  .  . 

The  lads  stamp  three  times  on  the  floor,  with  heavy  top-boots. 
The  girls  cry  out  of  a  sudden,  appealing  to  their  partners: 
"  Don't  you  hear  it?  There's  something  cracking.  You 
mustn't  come  down  so  heavy  with  your  feet." 

How  the  hands  are  going  .  .  .   klipp,  klapp,  klapp.  .   .   . 

Oh!  that's  the  Grays,  they've  got  great  hobnails  and  iron 
clamps  on  the  soles  of  their  boots.    They're  shod  like  horses. 

The  girls  lift  up  their  fingers,  and  in  their  innocence  don't 
know  what  they  are  singing:  — 

"Laddie,  if  thou  wilt, 
Laddie,  if  thou  wilt." 

How  the  feet  are  going  .  .  .  tripp,  trapp,  trapp.  .  .  . 

"  No!  "  say  the  girls;  "  the  lads  mustn't  stamp  so  with  their 
feet,  or  else  we'll  run  away.  The  floor'U  be  giving  way,  and 
we  shall  be  falling  through  on  the  horses." 

"  It's  the  Crays  who  are  doing  it." 

"  We  do  as  we  please,"  says  Fiete  Cray.  "  What  does  it 
matter  to  us  what  the  Uhls  think?" 

How  the  feet  are  going  .  .  .  tripp,  trapp,  trapp.  .  .  . 

There  is  a  groaning  and  cracking  all  over  the  building;  bits 
of  mortar  fall  from  the  wall. 

Lisbeth  Junker  comes  running  the  whole  length  of  the  floor 
up  to  J(')rii  Uhl.    "  Do  you  think  it  will  give  way,  Jiirgen?  " 

"Oh!  rubbish!"  he  says,  with  a  grand  air;  "come,  let's 
have  a  reel." 

Now  they  dance  together,  —  a  good  long  dance,  —  and  have 
neither  eyes  nor  cars  for  anything  else  in  the  room.  At  last  they 
get  so  hot  that  they  have  to  stop. 

"Oh!  you  can't  think  how  hot  I  am,"  says  she,  and  fans 
herself  with  her  white  pocket-handkerchief,  and  shakes  herself, 
standing  there  in  her  short  white  dress,  and  laughing. 

"  I'll  go  and  buy  you  something  to  drink,"  says  Jorn. 

They  go  hand  in  hand  through  the  throngs  of  dancers  to 


54  J  0  R  N     U  H  L 

where  Fritz  Rapp  is  posted  behind  all  sorts  of  glasses,  and  Jorn 
buys  her  a  bottle  of  lemonade,  which  they  share  together.  In 
return  she  presses  a  few  peppermint  drops  into  his  hand,  and 
eats  some  herself.  And  all  the  while  they  both  keep  wiping 
their  hot  faces  with  their  handkerchiefs.  But  now  their  hands 
were  so  sticky.  "  No,"  she  said,  "  that  won't  do  at  all;  just 
feel  them!  Our  hands  almost  stick  together,  and  if  you  put 
your  arm  around  me,  my  dress,  too,  will  get  dirty."  She  took 
her  pocket-handkerchief,  spat  into  it  with  pouting  lips,  and 
scrubbed  first  his  and  then  her  own  hands  clean.  Then  she 
showed  him  how  he  was  to  keep  the  handkerchief  under  his 
hand  when  he  took  hold  of  her.  "  Now  let  us  dance  again." 
So  they  again  danced  with  each  other  till  she  was  quite  tired, 
and  stood  still  panting  and  leaning  on  his  arm  a  little.  That 
was  always  the  crowning  point  of  good-fellowship. 

He  looked  at  her  with  quiet,  deep  eyes  full  of  tenderness  and 
happiness,  and  said,  "  Do  you  like  dancing  with  me?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  the  others  I  don't  know  so  well.  But  I 
know  you,  Jorn,  because  you  always  come  to  grandfather  for 
extra  lessons.     You  are  the  sharpest  and  best  of  them  all." 

He  grew  red,  and  said,  "  You  are  the  best  of  them,  that  I 
know  for  certain." 

"  Look!  "  she  said.  "  Do  you  see  Elsbe?  Elsbe  is  so  wild, 
and  that  I  don't  like." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  with  Harro  Heinsen.  That  sort  of  thing 
doesn't  suit  me  at  all.  That's  why  I  can  always  get  on  so 
well  with  you,  Lisbeth,  because  you're  always  so  quiet  and 
sensible." 

So  the  children  go  on  dancing  with  one  another,  till  the 
grown-up  youths  come  up  into  the  loft,  and  gradually  oust  the 
others  from  it.  By  ten  o'clock  it  was  quite  dark,  and  the  chil- 
dren had  retired  from  the  field.  Lisbeth  had  left  some  time 
before  with  her  grandfather.    Jorn  turns  to  Fiete  Cray. 

"  I  am  going  home.    Wlicre  is  Elsbe?  " 

"Where's  Elsbe?"  says  Fiete,  angrily.  "Why,  she's  stolen 
away  somewhere  with   Harro   Heinsen." 

They  went  through  the  skittle  alley  as  far  as  the  entrance 
to  the  garden,  where  all  was  as  dark  as  pitch,  and  called  her 
name;  but  not  a  leaf  stirred.  Then  Fiete  Cray  said,  in  a  low, 
but  perfectly  clear  voice,  "If  you  don't  come  at  once,  Elsbe, 
I'll  say  out  aloud  that  you're  in  the  garden  with  Harro  Hein- 


.TORN     UHL  55 

sen."  Then  stealing  footsteps  are  heard,  and  a  moment  after- 
ward Elsbe  appears,  and  says,  with  assumed  nonchalance,  "  Oh! 
Is  it  you?     I  thought  I  heard  some  one  calling." 

"  Yes,  it's  we,  and  you  must  come  home  with  us  at  once." 

Then  Harro  Heinsen  came  out  from  among  the  trees. 

"  We're  coming  over  to  Ringclshorn  next  Sunday  afternoon !  " 
says  he,  threateningly.  "  Then  you  Grays  shall  get  the  hammer- 
ing that  you  deserve  after  to-day's  doings."  Before  he  disap- 
peared he  again  shouted  back  his  threats  through  the  dark,  and 
they  heard  something,  too,  about  "  Keep  the  ring  safe!  "  Then 
he  was  gone,  away  along  the  track  behind  the  house,  and  the 
three  others  started  for  home. 

"  What!  has  he  given  you  a  ring,  then?  "  asked  Fiete  Cray. 
And  then,  in  a  tone  of  commiseration,  "  Let  us  have  a  look  at 
it,  Elsbe,  dear!     Is  it  silver?  " 

"  What's  that  to  do  with  you?  "  says  she,  haughtily. 

"  Oh,  but  you  ought  to  let  me  have  a  look,  Elsbe!  " 

"It's  gold.     Do  you  see?" 

"  Oh,  sweetie,  and  such  a  ring!  Do  you  think  it's  real  gold, 
though?  What  would  you  say  the  thing's  worth?  Not  much. 
Fivepence  at  most." 

"  There  you're  out  of  it  by  a  long  chalk,"  said  Elsbe.  "  Why, 
it's  worth  ten  shillings." 

"  What  a  donkey,  to  go  giving  you  a  ring.  Why,  what  do 
you  want  with  a  ring?  If  he'd  given  you  a  pair  of  rabbits,  now, 
it  would  have  been  something  like.  I  say,  Elsbe,  have  you  seen 
my  two  young  rabbits?  You  know,  the  two  gray-blueys?  "  Then 
in  her  fear  she  runs  over  to  Jorn's  side:  "  Jorn !  Fiete  wants 
to  swap  with  me  again." 

The  whole  afternoon,  while  the  children  were  dancing,  the 
two  clans  of  the  Uhls  and  the  Grays  had,  according  to  their 
old  custom,  remained  sitting  in  two  separate  rooms,  which  were 
divided  by  a  wide  door.  But  when  the  children  had  gone  home, 
and  the  punch  the  Uhls  had  drunk,  together  with  that  which 
they  had  sent  over  to  the  Grays'  room,  began  to  take  effect,  the 
most  venturesome  of  the  Grays  took  his  glass  and  went  over 
into  the  other  room  where  the  Uhls  were,  and  sat  himself  down 
among  them. 

This  year  Jochen  Gray  was  the  first  to  go.  He  came  in  w^'th 
high-flushed  face,  and  cast  defiant,  lordly  glances  over  the  Uhls. 


56  JORNUHL 

Then  he  sat  down  mute  and  stiff  by  the  side  of  his  neighbor 
Klaus  Uhl,  putting  his  glass  down  with  a  bang  on  the  table. 

"  I  am  going  to  sit  here  a  bit!  "  he  said. 

The  Uhls  laughed,  and  one  of  them  shouted  out,  "  The  first 
Cray  has  taken  flight."  One  by  one  the  others  followed,  and 
now  they  were  all  sitting  in  sociable  confusion,  Uhls  and  Grays 
together. 

Once  a  year,  on  this  special  night,  namely,  do  the  Uhls  and 
Grays  sit  side  by  side,  and  call  each  other  "  Thou,"  and  "  mien 
lewe  Nahwer,"^  and  love  each  other  like  brothers,  singing  their 
old  songs  together,  and  even  at  times  embracing.  That  will 
last  some  three  or  four  hours. 

But  then  comes  a  disturbance.  Some  Gray  or  other  will 
begin  to  give  his  dear  neighbor  "  a  piece  of  his  mind  about  him," 
and  soon  all  the  Grays  are  busily  engaged,  with  their  glib,  sharp 
tongues,  in  rooting  up  every  shady  story  they  can  get  hold 
of  about  the  Uhls;  like  oxen  that  mouth  about  wantonly 
among  the  fresh  oat  straw  put  into  their  mangers.  They  ease 
their  minds  of  everything  that's  happened  between  them  and  the 
Uhls  during  the  year ;  and  unburden  themselves  of  all  their 
stored-up  grumblings  and  grievances,  which  are  by  no  means  few 
in  number.  Goarse,  subtle,  general,  particular,  their  remarks  are 
everything  by  turns.  They  demand  a  reckoning  from  every  Uhl 
for  every  shortcoming  during  the  whole  year.  One  they'll  gibe 
about  his  wife  being  a  skinflint,  who'll  haggle  two  hours  about 
the  price  of  a  heather  broom  and  a  reed  mat;  another  they'll 
show  that  he  hasn't  driven  a  single  shrewd  bargain  the  whole 
year  around,  either  on  his  farm  or  at  the  market;  a  third  they'll 
remind  of  old  ridiculous  things  he's  done,  so  that  the  blood  flies 
into  his  cheeks  with  shame;  and  finally  they  prophesy  the  down- 
fall and  decay  of  the  Uhls  and  all  their  belongings.  "  Not  a 
man  of  you  will  end  his  days  on  his  own  farm.  You'll  squander 
and  guzzle  yourselves  out  of  house  and  home,  as  true  as  our 
name  is  Gray." 

Then  the  Uhls  jump  up;  the  Grays,  too,  spring  from  their 
seats.  Fritz  Rapp,  seeing  the  storm  brewing,  has  already  put 
the  glasses  and  punch-bowls  away  into  a  place  of  safety,  and 
looks  sociably  on  from  his  vantage-ground  behind  the  counter 
upon  the  battle. 

But  what's  the  good  of  it  all?    Next  morning  the  Grays  ask 

'  My  dear  neighbor. 


JORNUHL  57 

themselves:  Where  are  we  to  sell  our  heather-brooms,  and 
halters,  and  currycombs?  And  the  same  man,  who  that  feast- 
ni(;ht  had  been  so  loud-voiced  anti  bitter  in  his  gibes,  now  stands 
once  more  with  most  grave  and  humble  face  in  the  wide  halls  of 
the  Uhls,  and  modestly  offers  them  his  wares.  And  although  at 
first  he  gets  growled  at  here  and  there,  he  is  sure  to  come  again. 
And  gradually  the  brawl  between  them  is  forgotten.  Only  one 
or  another,  perhaps,  will  avoid  a  certain  farm  for  a  year  or  so, 
because  the  owner  has  struck  his  fist  too  hard  on  the  table,  and 
sworn  that,  "  If  that  scoundrel  comes  here  again,  by  heaven! 
he'll  fling  him,  dogs  and  all,  into  the  old  moat." 


CHAPTER    IV. 

It  was  Wieten  Penn's  voice  calling  in  shrill  tones  across  the 
farmyard :  "  The  children  want  to  go  over  to  Thiess  Thiessen's 
again." 

Klaus  Uhl,  who  was  sitting  in  his  cart,  about  to  drive  into 
town   (which  he  did  every  afternoon),  laughed,  and  said: 

"  Let  'em  go  where  they  like!  If  they'd  rather  be  out  there 
on  the  hungry  moors  than  here  on  the  fat  marsh-land,  then  let 
'em  go,  Wieten,  don't  stop  'em." 

"  Now,  children,  you  can  at  least  wait  until  I  have  cut  some 
bread  and  butter  for  you." 

They  stood  first  on  one  foot,  then  on  the  other,  they  were  so 
impatient  to  be  off.  At  last  Wieten  came  in  with  the  bread  and 
butter. 

"  Fiete!  "  said  she,  "  come  over  here  to  me!  "  He  came  up 
close  to  her,  and  she  shook  her  clenched  fist  in  his  face  and 
said  to  him,  in  a  whisper:  "  You  just  take  care,  now,  and  don't 
go  telling  the  children  any  of  those  make-up  stories  of  yours." 
Then  she  stuck  the  bread  into  Jorn's  pocket.  "  You're  the  most 
sensible  one,  Jorn.  When  you  get  there,  tell  your  uncle  Thiess 
he's  not  to  go  carrying  on  with  you  in  such  a  silly  way,  and 
that  he's  to  send  you  home  in  good  time." 

"  Well,"  said  Fiete,  "  now  we're  off  at  last!  "  He  stuck  his 
two  fingers  in  his  mouth,  and  gave  a  shrill  whistle  to  the  two 
girls  who  had  gone  on  ahead,  and  were  already  on  the  rise  of 
the  road  that  goes  to  Ringelshorn.  And  one  of  the  girls  looked 
around  and  waved  her  hand,  and  that  was  Elsbe  Uhl.  But  the 
other  went  on  steadily  plodding  up  the  hill,  taking  care  that  her 
skirt  didn't  get  dirty,  and  that  w^as  Lisbeth  Junker. 

She  went  to  school  with  the  other  children,  but  kept  some- 
what apart  from  them,  and  always  spoke  High  German.  Fiete 
Cray  did  not  like  to  have  her  with  them.  "  She's  too  prim.  If 
I  happen  to  let  out  an  oath,  she'll  pout  and  say,  '  Fie,   for 

58 


JORNUHL  59 

shame,  Fiete,  how  can  you  say  such  things!  '  She's  always 
frightened  lest  her  hands  should  get  dirty,  or  the  wind  should 
tousle  her  hair." 

But  Jorn  liked  her  and  wanted  her  with  them.  She  was  not 
quite  so  old  as  Elsbe,  and  was  always  getting  into  some  scrape 
or  other.  Then  she  used  to  cry  out  in  a  shrill  but  sweet  voice 
for  Jorn  to  come  and  help  her:  more  than  likely  that  was  the 
chief  reason  why  he  liked  her  so  well. 

"Oh,  there  you  are!  "  said  Elsbe,  as  the  lads  came  up  over 
the  edge  of  the  hill  and  stood  by  her  side  on  the  heath.  "  Which 
way  do  we  go  now,  Fiete?  " 

"  Follow  your  noses,  girls,"  said  Fiete.  "  We'll  make  for 
that  tree  yonder."  And  he  pointed  to  a  tree  right  away  on  the 
horizon. 

It's  a  puzzle  for  them,  and  it's  Fiete  Cray's  great  claim  to 
glory,  how  they  always  come  out  at  Thiess  Thiessen's,  who  lives 
somewhere  away  over  there  on  the  moors  behind  the  woods; 
and  they  come  out  there,  no  matter  what  haphazard  path  they 
take  across  the  trackless  heath  and  through  the  wood,  which  they 
enter  just  wherever  they  happen  to  strike  it. 

Goodness!  what  if  they  should  come  upon  cannibals!  or  fall 
in  with  one  of  those  robbers'  dens  that  are  still  to  be  found  in 
the  northern  part  of  the  wood!  ,  .  .  Twice  on  his  peddling 
excursions  has  Fiete  Cray  come  across  such  a  den,  and  once,  sure 
enough,  the  witch  Black  Margaret  met  him.  She  had  caught 
sight  of  him,  and  had  made  the  sign  which  should  pin  him  to 
the  spot  where  he  stood  forever.  But  he  had  fortunately  known 
the  spell  which  could  cross  her  power.  "  You  must  say  it  thrice," 
he  said,  and  he  said  it  thrice.     It  was  a  very  coarse  expression. 

"  Fie,  for  shame,  Fiete !  "  cried  Lisbeth.  "  How  can  you  say 
such  things?  " 

Fiete  made  a  vague  apologetic  gesture  with  his  hand. 

"  The  wild  woman  of  the  forest  then  fell  into  a  great  rage, 
and  pelted  me  with  stones.  Just  come  and  see !  it  isn't  far ;  the 
place  is  just  over  there!  I  can  show  you  the  stones  still  lying 
there." 

But  Lisbeth  wouldn't  go  with  them. 

"  You  can  all  come.    You  needn't  be  afraid." 

Wide-eyed  with  fear,  they  followed  him,  Lisbeth  farthest 
behind. 

"  I'm  not  going  any  farther,"  said  she. 


6o  JORNUHL 

Jorn  turned  back  to  her,  and  drew  her  along  by  the  hand. 

"  \  ou  twitter  like  a  little  bird,  Rain-tweet,"  said  he. 

"  I  don't  like  you  at  all  to-day,"  she  said,  "  I'm  going  to  turn 
back." 

"  Just  stay  here,  Lisbeth,"  he  said,  "  we'll  be  back  in  a 
moment." 

She  sat  down  on  a  little  mound,  and  the  others  went  on;  and, 
just  as  Fiete  had  said,  half-hidden  in  the  heather  they  found 
a  heap  of  stones,  which  sun  and  wind  and  rain  had  bleached 
for  many  a  day. 

"  Well,"  said  Jorn,  "  at  any  rate,  she  must  have  had  a  pretty 
tolerable  fist  if  she  could  throw  those  stones." 

Just  then  there  came  a  gust  of  wind  out  of  the  woods. 

"  Away!  "  cries  Fiete,  and  they  all  scamper  off  as  fast  as  they 
can  go  through  the  heather,  and  arrive  panting  at  the  mound 
where  Lisbeth  Junker  is  standing  half  in  terror,  ready  to  run, 
too.  Then  they  all  laugh  at  Lisbeth,  and  lie  down  against  the 
mound. 

"  What  was  that  about  old  Margaret?  "  asked  Elsbe. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Fiete,  "  it's  a  couple  of  years  since  then.  I 
was  over  to  Kuden  and  Bokholt  with  my  dogs  and  the  cart, 
selling  brushes  and  clothes-pegs,  and  evet.ing  came  on  before  I 
got  back.  So  I  went  quite  softly  along  the  edge  of  the  pines.  I 
didn't  venture  to  go  through ;  for  between  the  tree-trunks 
it  w^as  all  black,  it  kept  going  backwards  and  forwards  between 
the  trunks,  as  long  and  thin  as  crowbars,  and  as  slow  as  the 
minister  when  he  goes  up  to  the  altar.  So  at  last  I  came  to  the 
big  sand-pit;  you  know,  not  far  from  Grossenrade,  there  where 
the  minister  stands." 

"  What's  that  ?  "  asked  Elsbe.    "  What  minister  ?  " 

"  Oh!  do  you  want  to  hear  that  first?  Then  I'll  just  have 
to  tell  the  other  afterward.  .  .  .  Well,  the  minister  in  Kuden 
was  to  administer  the  Last  Sacrament  to  a  man  in  Grossenrade. 
But  when  he'd  got  as  far  as  the  sand-pit,  he  happened  to  turn 
and  look  around.  From  there  you  can  see  a  great  way,  as  far 
as  Hamburg.  Why,  once  when  it  was  clear  weather  I  made 
out  what  o'clock  it  was  by  the  Hamburg  church-tower.  Well! 
the  minister  looked  around,  and  what  do  you  think  he  saw? 
His  house  in  flames,  burning  like  mad!  Now,  he's  got  books  in 
his  house  that  can't  be  bought  anywhere  in  the  wide  world.  I 
dare  say  you  know  there  are  books  full  of  the  secrets  how  men 


JORN     UHL  6i 

can  get  tremendously  wise  and  rich.  The  minister  had  books 
h'ke  that.  There  he  was,  you  see!  Sliould  he  turn  back  and 
save  his  books,  or  should  he  go  on  and  give  the  dying  man  the 
Sacrament.  Well,  he  thought  too  much  of  his  books,  and 
turned  back  home  and  saved  them,  and  the  man  died  without 
the  Sacrament.  From  that  day  forth,  however,  the  minister 
couldn't  get  to  sleep  any  more,  and  soon  died,  and  went  to  hell. 
But  the  devil  wouldn't  have  him  there,  and  put  him  in  the  big 
sand-pit  instead. 

"  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  I  came  close  up.  I  felt  a  bit  eerie, 
I  can  tell  you.  First  a  crow  that  sat  on  a  pine  screamed  Ma-rk! 
Ma-ark!  but  I  saw  nothing  special  to  mark.  Then  an  owl 
that  sat  on  a  birch,  you  know,  —  one  of  the  little  ones,  —  it 
cried,  shrill  and  loud,  Heed!  Heed!  But  I  thought  to  myself 
I  must  get  past  somehow.  Then  a  cat  cried  ;  it  was  sitting 
on  a  gate-post,  and  said  Ow!  Ow!  But  I  thought  to  myself, 
Let  come  w-hat  will!  And  right  there  stood  the  minister,  up 
there  by  the  sand-pit.  He  kept  changing  feet,  and  when  he 
stood  on  his  left  leg  he  looked  toward  Kuden,  and  when  he 
stood  on  his  right  leg  he  looked  toward  Rade." 

Fiete  Cray  looked  from  one  to  the  other. 

"  But  you  were  going  to  tell  us  about  the  old  woman?  " 

"Oh!  I'll  tell  you  that  another  time,"  he  said.  "Honor 
bright ;  we  must  now  be  off  again,  else  it  will  be  too  late 
when  we  get  to  Haze  Farm.  But  where  shall  we  strike  into 
the  wood?     Through  we'll  have  to  go.     But  whereabouts?" 

It  was  always  the  same  thing.  Whenever  they  had  to  go 
through  the  wood  he  always  managed  to  work  them  up  to  such 
a  pitch  that  the  girls  entered  it  in  terror,  and  so  that  even  Jorn 
was  somewhat  shaky.  Crouching  close  together,  they  hurried 
through  the  forest.  Fiete  Cray's  eyes  spied  left  and  right  into 
the  gloom,  as  though  he  were  every  moment  expecting  a  troop 
of  demons  to  burst  forth.  Elsbe  had  clutched  his  hand,  and  kept 
looking  up  at  him  with  frightened  eyes.  Lisbeth  Junker  came 
so  close  behind,  and  kept  peering  so  anxiously  around  on  all 
sides,  that  she  several  times  trod  on  the  heels  of  those  in  front. 
Jorn  came  last.  He  was  inclined  to  distrust  the  truth  of  Fiete 
Cray's  stories,  or  at  least  to  look  on  them  as  grossly  exaggerated. 
But  he  didn't  venture  to  say  so,  for  he  didn't  feel  himself 
a  match  for  Fiete  Cray's  stock  of  words  and  experience.  But 
he  wanted  to  show  his  disdain,  all  the  same,  so  he  said  to  Lis- 


62  JORNUHL 

beth:  "You  go  in  front,  Lisbeth!  I'll  go  last."  But  he  often 
looked  behind  him  of  a  sudden,  clearly  hearing  steps  behind  him. 

At  last  the  light  of  open  fields  glimmered  through  the  trees. 
"  Now  run  for  it !  "  said  Fiete.  And  as  fast  as  ever  they  could 
they  ran  on  between  the  pine  trunks,  reaching  the  open  track, 
saw  the  Haze  Farm  lying  below  in  the  moorland,  and  screamed 
and  shouted  and  waved  their  caps  and  handkerchiefs. 

An  earthen  mound  winds  like  a  great  snake  down  between 
the  fields  into  the  moor.  It's  bad  walking  on  it,  for  clustering 
heath  and  broom  and  blackberry  bushes  have  grown  lush  and 
thick  all  over  it.  But  just  for  that  very  reason  the  children 
prefer  to  walk  along  on  top  of  it,  following  it  down  into  the 
moor.  At  last,  when  walking  grows  too  difficult,  they  risk  a 
leap  into  the  bushes,  and  spring  down  from  the  mound,  —  Lis- 
beth with  Jorn's  help,  —  and  make  toward  the  piles  of  turf 
which  lie  alongside  the  broad  black  ditches.  And  there  in  the 
grass  lies  Thiess  Thiessen,  in  the  shade  of  a  pile  of  turf,  his 
cap  over  his  face  and  his  gun  lying  beside  him. 

They  steal  up  to  him  on  tiptoe  and  stand  around  him.  "  He 
has  been  going  to  come  to  meet  us,"  whispers  Elsbe,  "  then  he 
has  thought  he'd  just  lie  down  a  few  seconds,  and  has  fallen 
off  to  sleep.  He's  one  of  the  seven  sleepers,  and  does  everything 
different  from  every  one  else." 

"  Let's  all  shout  out  together  of  a  sudden,"  says  Jorn,  "  then 
he'll  get  no  end  of  a  shock!    You  just  see!  " 

"Hollo  ...  oh!" 

Like  a  frightened  hare  that  leaps  from  its  form,  Thiess 
bounded  from  the  ground. 

"  What's  that!  "  he  almost  screamed. 

"Thiess!"  cried  Elsbe,  "do  try  and  pull  a  different  face. 
That  one's  too  funny." 

Then  he  picked  up  his  gun,  and  managed  to  find  his  tongue 
again.  "  I  was  going  to  come  and  meet  you ;  but  this  place 
downright  invited  me  into  it.  '  Thiess,'  it  said,  '  come  and  have 
a  lie  down.  They  won't  be  coming  yet  awhile.'  "  His  dry, 
shrewd  face  beamed  with  smiles,  and  his  little  bright  eyes 
twinkled  and  glittered.  "  Fiete,  man,  it's  just  splendid  that 
you've  all  come." 

"  Is  the  boat  finished,  Thiess?  " 

"  She's  all  ready,"  said  he,  "  and  right  as  a  trivet.  .  .  .  There 
was  once  a  time  when  I  thought  I  was  cut  out  for  a  sailor, 


JORNUHL  63 

children.  But  I  got  seasick  from  merely  standing  on  the  Dikes 
and  looking  at  the  Elbe.  Tlien  I  went  as  'prentice-boy  to 
Klausen,  the  shipwright,  in  Brunsbi.ittel,  and  everything  would 
have  gone  splendidly,  and  I  would  have  had  a  shipyard  of  my 
own  and  been  a  rich  man  by  this  if  it  hadn't  been  for  these 
dash'd  sleeping- fits.  Don't  you  be  laughing,  now,  Fiete,  you're 
too  stupid  to  know  what  I  mean.  I  can  quite  understand  that 
story  about  the  Sleeping  Beauty,  how  all  of  them  fell  asleep 
for  a  hundred  years;  I  can  sing  you  a  song  about  it,  too.  And, 
besides,  in  those  years  I  didn't  grow  gradually,  as  a  youth  ought 
to,  but  shot  up,  lanky  and  slim,  for  all  the  world  like  a  crow- 
bar, as  if  my  sole  object  was  to  touch  the  ceiling.  As  long  as 
we  were  laying  the  keel  we  got  on  tolerably  well,  and  I  managed 
to  keep  awake.  But  as  soon  as  the  first  plank  was  laid,  when 
the  plank  made  that  curve,  you  know,  Fiete,  it  seemed  to  me 
as  though  it  w'ere  laying  itself  out  so  invitingly,  just  for  my 
sake,  and  saying  to  me,  '  Come  and  have  a  lie  down,  Thiess 
Thiessen.'  In  a  word,  I  was  no  good  for  a  shipwright,  I  mean 
in  those  particular  years,  not  the  slightest!  I  have  still  the 
document  at  home,  children.  Master  Klausen's  certificate:  '  On 
account  of  chronic  sleeping-fits,  etc.,'  that's  how  it  runs.  So  I 
was  sent  home,  and  before  I  reached  this  old  thatch-cottage,  I 
slept  over  there  in  the  Haze  Wood  thirteen  hours  at  a  stretch 
beneath  the  blackberry  bushes.  Later  on  I  thought  I'd  like  to 
go  to  the  grammar  school ;  for,  by  hook  or  by  crook,  I  wanted 
to  see  the  world.  And  I  thought  to  myself,  '  A  good  scholar 
has  the  whole  world  open  to  him ;  '  if  you  go  to  school  you'll 
learn  Latin,  and  that's  as  handy  as  learning  to  swim.  Done, 
then!  Not  quite  so  fast,  though!  First  came  the  private  les- 
sons from  the  old  minister.  That  went  fine.  For  he  knew  my 
failing,  and  put  the  lessons  between  six  and  eight  of  a  morning 
and  four  and  six  of  an  evening,  when  I  was  least  sleepy.  I 
really  learnt  something,  as  you  know.  There's  many  a  Latin 
word  I  can  still  say." 

"  Adsum,"  said  Fiete  Cray,  "  that's  I." 

"  There's  no  need  for  you  to  poke  fun,  Fiete.  Do  you  mean 
to  say  that's  the  only  Latin  word  I  know,  then  ?  .  .  .  But 
afterward,  at  school,  ^'ou  children  never  knew  old  Professor 
Chalybeas,  did  you?  Chalyheas  means  iron,  Fiete.  Many  a 
time  he'd  say  to  us,  '  There's  no  gumption  in  you  Ditmarshers,' 
he'd  say.     But  when  he  came  to  talk  about  me,  Fiete,  he's  say, 


64  JORNUHL 

'  Oh,  there's  gumption  enough  in  Thiess  Thiessen.  It's  all 
dormant,  though.'  Well,  to  make  a  long  matter  short,  children, 
it  wouldn't  do  at  all.  I  tell  you,  people  have  got  quite  a  wrong 
idea  about  book-learning  and  all  that.  They  think  it's  a  — 
what  shall  I  call  it?  —  a  kind  of  road  where  the  farther  you 
go  the  more  light  you  get.  Nothing  of  the  sort.  Just  the 
opposite,  in  fact.  It  seemed  to  me  a  kind  of  underground  tunnel, 
a  kind  of  fox's  burrow.  You  go  in  like  a  ferret,  but  you  don't 
know  where  you'll  come  out,  or,  indeed,  whether  you'll  come 
out  at  all.  So  I  beat  a  hasty  retreat.  '  It's  so  much  less  weight 
to  carry,'  as  the  fox  said,  when  he  left  his  hind  leg  in  the  trap 
and  limped  away  on  three  feet.  I  got  another  document  that 
time;    I  still  have  it.     It's  pretty  well  blank,  I  may  say. 

"  There  I  was,  then,  back  at  Haze  Farm  again,  and  some  days 
I  used  to  stand  in  the  kitchen  doorway,  and  others  I  used  to 
dream  away  under  the  east  wall,  planning  voyages  around  the 
world  and  through  strange  lands;  but  my  father  had  had 
enough  of  it.  He  took  me  by  the  back  of  the  neck  and  put  a 
flail  in  my  hand,  and  set  me  by  the  side  of  our  old  farm-hand, 
Klaus  Suhm,  who  was  just  setting  about  the  threshing  of  the 
long  oat  sheaves  that  had  grown  in  the  moor  paddock ;  and 
whenever  I  spoke  of  travels  after  that,  my  father  held  his 
clenched  fist  before  my  nose.  That  was  the  end  of  my  plans 
for  travel  then,  and  I,  a  man  who  would  fain  have  made  a 
tour  through  Russia  on  foot  to  Bangkok  by  way  of  China,  have 
sat  here  all  my  life  on  Haze  Farm,  and  haven't  yet  seen  Ham- 
burg; I  haven't  even  seen  Rendsburg.  I  made  up  for  it,  as  far 
as  possible,  with  reading.  I  bought  a  big  atlas  and  Fenimore 
Cooper's  and  Gertstacker's  novels,  and  all  sorts  of  books  on 
travel,  and  mapped  out  on  the  whitewashed  walls  of  my  bed- 
room all  my  imaginary  voyages.  You  have  seen  it,  haven't  you, 
children,  he?  " 

"  Now  just  leave  off  talking,  uncle!  "  said  Elsbe,  "  and  let's 
go  over  to  the  fox-hole." 

"Oh,  the  fox-hole!  Well,  hurry  up,  children!  we  haven't 
much  time,  though.  Trina  must  have  dinner  ready  by  this. 
There's  dumplings  and  pig's-head." 

In  the  embankment  Thiess  found  the  two  fox-holes,  half- 
hidden  in  the  heather,  burrowed  into  the  yellowish  sand. 

"  Shoot  right  into  it,"  said  Elsbe. 

"That's  throwing  powder  away,  child!" 


JORNUHL  65 

"  It's  all  the  same,"  she  said,  and  looked  at  him  angrily ; 
"shoot  into  it,  I  tell  you!  " 

Thiess  Thiessen,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  had  always  to  do  what 
little  Elsbe  bade  him.  Twenty  years  before  he  had  stood  at  the 
bidding  of  her  mother  in  just  the  same  fashion.  So  he  put 
the  muzzle  of  the  fz;un  into  the  hole.  They  all  stood  and  watched 
the  yellow  sand,  anxiously  waiting  for  the  shot.  Lisbeth  drew 
back  a  little.  Jorn,  who  always  kept  an  eye  on  her  doings, 
teased  her,  ran  over  to  her,  seized  her  hands  and  tried  to  pull 
her  back  to  the  others.  But  she,  thinking  to  divert  him  from 
his  intention,  laid  her  arms  beggingly  around  his  neck  with  a 
pretty  little  gesture,  and  kept  quite  still  and  held  him  fast.  He 
didn't  know  what  to  do,  feeling  her  bosom  pressed  so  close  to 
him.     He  laid  his  arms  awkwardly  about  her  and  looked  at  her. 

Often  in  the  playground  at  school,  when  boys  had  caught 
hold  of  her,  she  had  screamed  and  torn  herself  away  in  fear. 
He  had  never  yet  touched  her  in  that  way. 

''  When  we're  here  with  Thiess,  \ou're  always  so  different," 
she  said,  nodding  her  head  at  him ;  "  at  home  you're  often  so 
grave  and  surly,  but  here  you're  in  good  spirits.  I  do  like  you, 
though,  to-day." 

She  pressed  close  against  him.  He  didn't  use  his  whole 
strength  by  a  long  way;  but  he  wondered  that  she  had  so  much 
force  in  those  delicate  limbs  of  hers,  and  he  was  embarrassed  at 
her  approaches,  and  held  her  firm  and  gently,  and  said :  "  I  am 
always  going  to  call  you  Rain-tweet  now!  " 

'I  Why?  "she  asked. 

"  Because  you've  such  a  high,  tweety  voice,  like  the  bird  we 
call  Rain-tweet,  3  ou  know  —  some  people  call  it  plover.  That's 
the  way  you  go,  tweet-tweet." 

They  were  still  holding  each  other  fast  and  smiling,  when 
a  titmouse  on  a  neighboring  tree  suddenly  began  to  whistle. 
It  whistled  with  such  a  shrill,  terrified  note,  that  they  all  heard 
it  and  began  searching  for  it.  It  was  sitting  on  the  topmost 
branch  of  a  small  lir,  jerking  its  head  up  and  down,  and  eyeing 
something  on  the  ground.  And  when  they  looked  in  that  direc- 
tion they  saw^  a  brownish-yellow  mass  crouching  in  the  dry, 
light-colored  grass.  Two  burning  eyes  were  gazing,  with  a 
look  of  infinite  cunning,  out  of  that  three-cornered  head  upon 
the  fox-hunters  w  ho  were  standing  there  open-mouthed.  Thiess 
held  the  gun  away   from  him  with  a  stiff  arm   and   his   face 


66  JORNUHL 

all  pursed  up,  and  fired  wildly  into  the  sand-hole.  Fiete  Cray 
pulled  off  one  of  his  heavy  iron-clamped  boots  and  flung  it  after 
the  fox  with  all  his  might. 

"  By  Jove!  "  said  Thiess,  "  that  fellow  had  a  mighty  tail!  " 
Elsbe  slapped  her  hands  together.     "  And  you  say  that  now, 
uncle!     But  that's  always  the  way  when  we're  here;    every- 
thing you  lay  hands  to,  goes  wrong." 

"  Come,  children,"  said  he,  "  we'll  be  off!  Dinner  must  be 
ready  by  this." 

The  house  in  which  Thiess  Thiessen  had  spent  almost  his 
whole  life,  and  the  head  which  Thiess  Thiessen  had  on  his 
shoulders,  bore  an  undeniable  likeness  to  each  other.  It  must 
remain  an  open  question  for  all  time,  which  of  the  two  had 
taken  after  the  other,  whether  Thiess's  head  had  in  the  course 
of  years  grown  like  the  dear  old  house,  or  whether  the  house  had 
taken  after  Thiess  a  little. 

Thiess  Thiessen's  house  was  long  and  narrow;  the  high,  dark 
thatch  roof  hung  deep  down  over  the  little  blinking  windows; 
in  front  there  was  a  small  audacious  kind  of  gable.  Thiess 
Thiessen's  head  was  very  long  and  narrow,  and  the  long,  dark 
hair  hung  deep  down  over  his  ears  and  forehead  almost  into  his 
shining,  blinking  eyes.  His  nose  was  small,  and  though  not 
exactly  audacious  looking,  was  at  least  a  little  perky  —  a  deli- 
cate arched  nose  it  was,  in  the  middle  of  a  little,  weather-beaten, 
dried  and  wrinkled  face. 

Elsbe  often  used  to  say  to  him: 

"  Uncle,  your  face  is  just  like  your  house." 

"  It  can't  very  well  be  otherwise,"  he  would  answer.  "  We've 
been  more  than  forty  years  together  now,  the  old  house  and  I, 
and  have  always  been  by  ourselves." 

They  were  all  seated  at  the  round  table  in  the  big  room  with 
the  white  tiles  on  the  walls,  the  room  where  twenty  years  hence 
they  were  to  spend  a  Christmas  Eve  of  such  sorrow  and  re- 
joicing. 

"  Children,"  Thiess  said,  "  there's  nothing  to  beat  a  walk  on 
the  heath,  and  then  home  to  Dittmarsh,  dumplings,  and  pig's- 
head ;    I  tell  you,  it's  the  best  thing  in  the  world." 

He  laid  the  first  piece  on  Elsbe's  plate,  nodding  and  smiling. 

"  That's  only  your  idea,"  said  Elsbe.     "  But  Dominie  Peters 


J  O  R  N     U  H  L  67 

knows  better  than  that.     He  says  the  best  thing  In  the  world 
is  love;   and  I  believe  it  is,  too." 

Thiess  Thiessen's  fork  remained  poised  in  the  air ;  his  little 
eyes  opened  wide  with  astonishment,  and  his  eyebrows  vanished 
under  his  long  front  hair.  He  thought  to  himself:  That's 
exactly  what  her  mother  used  to  say,  when  she  was  twelve ; 
she,  too,  had  her  ideas  about  love.  And  love  has  cost  her  dear. 
.  .  .  "Love?"  said  he.     "Love  of  whom?" 

Elsbe  hadn't  thought  of  anything  definite.  But,  sharp  as  a 
needle,  she  at  once  answered,  "  The  love  of  God." 

He  was  quite  nonplussed.  "  '^  es!  jes!  "  he  said,  rocking  his 
head  backwards  and  forwards,  "  I  am  afraid,  Elsbe,  you  can't 
make  much  out  of  that.  Eove  of  God?  How  would  you  set 
about  it?     Do  you  think  He's  sitting  here  beside  you?" 

"  The  meaning's  plain  enough,"  said  Elsbe.  "  We  must  love 
what's  good.     That's  what  it  means." 

"  This  pig's-head  is  good,  Elsbe,"  he  said,  "  I  quite  agree 
with  you."  As  he  spoke  his  eyes  had  an  honest  look  in  them, 
like  small,  clean,  shiny  windows  in  the  morning  sun. 

"  Jorn,"  he  said,  "  tell  us  what  you  think  about  it.  Fiete  Cray 
has  nothing  to  say,  because  pig's-heads  and  heath-brooms  and  old 
witches  that  throw  stones  are  the  only  things  that  interest  him. 
But  you,  Jorn,  you're  a  brooder,  a  thinker.  Yes,  you're  a 
brooder,  Jorn.  Not  exactly,  perhaps,  to  such  an  extent  as  the 
Indian  fakirs  who  sit  in  a  corner  and  gaze  at  their  stomachs  until 
they  see  all  sorts  of  mad  visions.     Speak,  Jorn." 

"  The  best  thing  in  the  world  is  work,"  said  Jorn. 

Thiess  let  his  fork  sink,  and  looked  uneasy. 

"  Jiirgen  Uhl !  "  he  said,  "  that  was  the  last  thing  I  should 
have  expected  3'ou  to  say.  Work?  .  .  .  why,  what  does  the 
second  page  of  the  Bible  say?  I  mean  after  they  had  been  driven 
out  of  paradise.  What  was  the  doom  that  overtook  these  two 
poor  wretches  like  flashes  of  lightning?  'Thou  shalt  eat  thy 
bread  in  the  sweat  of  thy  brow.'  Is  that  a  blessing,  Jorn,  or 
a  curse?  Work,  Jorn,  work  is  a  curse.  And  you  say  it's  the 
best  thing  in  the  world.  I  have  all  my  life  wished  for  nothing 
more  ardently  than  that  I  had  been  born  on  the  Pesander 
Islands,  or  on  Surnaci,  away  in  the  Molucca  Seas,  where  work 
is  simply  forbidden.  Prohibited,  Jorn !  Because  otherwise  too 
many  bananas  would  grow  there.  And  I  thank  God  every  day 
that  I've  got  Haze  Farm,  and  that  I  can  manage,  so  to  speak, 


68  JORNUHL 

to  escape  the  curse;  but  of  course  when  the  hay-making  is  on 
and  when  we  are  baking  turf,  I  have  to  lend  a  hand,  too.  And 
then  you  go  talking  about  work  being  the  best  thing  in  the 
world." 

They  none  of  them  had  a  word  to  say,  now  that  he  began 
quoting  Scripture  at  them. 

But  presently  Thiess  Thiessen  grew  more  venturesome,  and 
left  the  firm  soil  for  marshy  ground.  "  Children,"  he  said, 
"  as  long  as  I  can  remember,  I  have  read  the  Itzehoer  News. 
Do  you  know  what  makes  me  so  curious  every  time  that  Peter 
Siemssen  comes  around  the  corner,  and  opens  the  door,  and 
cries  'Paper'?  Well,  it's  because  I'm  so  anxious  to  see  if 
there's  less  work  being  done,  or  if  work  is  going  to  stop  alto- 
gether, or  if  there's  a  chance  of  us  getting  rid  of  the  curse  of 
work  once  for  all!     That's  what  I'm  curious  about  now." 

"  Oh!  "  said  Jorn,  laying  his  hand  on  the  table,  "  that  would 
be  a  nice  state  of  affairs!     But  go  on,  though," 

"  Just  think  of  all  the  inventions  there's  been.  And  every 
invention  has  made  work  less.  Think  of  the  spinning-jenny. 
I  can  still  see  my  old  mother,  how  she  used  to  sit  through  the 
long  winter  days  behind  her  spinning-wheel.  And  the  thresh- 
ing-machine^ too.  I  tell  you,  Klaus  Suhm  and  I  have  beaten  the 
floor  in  with  our  flails.  And  it's  no  exaggeration  to  say  that 
Klaus  Suhm  must  have  smashed  at  least  a  score  of  threshing- 
floors  in  his  time.  Now  the  machine  comes  along  for  a  day,  and 
thrashes  and  winnows  the  whole  crop,  and  it's  done  with.  And 
then  railways  and  telegraphs.  A  few  years  ago  it  used  to  be, 
'  Where  are  my  top-boots,  Liza?  '  '  Put  the  horses  in  the  cart, 
Patrick !  '  I  tell  you  for  a  fact,  work's  growing  less,  children. 
Klaus  Suhm  used  to  get  up  at  two  in  winter,  and  used  to  knock 
at  my  w^'ndow  at  three.  Where  does  that  happen  nowadays? 
But  I  can't  help  wondering  sometimes;  it's  a  real  puzzle  to  me 
how  it  is  that  work  doesn't  grow  less  and  less  and  die  out  alto- 
gether." 

"  Well,  and  what  then?  "  said  Jorn,  bending  forward.  "  Sup- 
posing it  did  grow  less,  what  would  you  do  in  your  spare  time?  " 

"  Every  one  could  arrange  about  that  as  he  pleased,"  said 
Thiess  Thiessen ;  "  for  my  part,  I'd  vote  for  a  good  long  sleep, 
in  the  shade  of  a  stack  of  turf." 

"Oh,  would  you?"  said  Jorn;  "and  others,"  said  he, 
**  others"  —  he  hesitated  and  was  a  little  embarrassed  —  "would 


JORNUHL  69 

lie  about  all  day  in  the  public-house."  He  shook  his  head.  "  But 
you're  too  stupid  for  anything,  Thiess.  Do  you  think  that 
Adam  and  Eve  never  used  to  work  before  the  fall  ?  '  They 
tilled  the  Garden  of  Eden,'  it  says  in  the  Bible,  and  played 
with  each  other.  We'd  work,  too,  and  have  grand  games  to- 
gether, wouldn't  we,  Lisbeth?  But  the  fact  is  that  many  people 
are  wicked  and  bad,  and  so  we  have  all  got  to  go  to  school,  and 
later  on  to  work.  And  as  for  you,  Thiess,  you  ought  to  go 
right  away  and  put  the  bay  gelding  into  another  paddock.  Up 
there  by  the  pines  there's  no  grass  left  for  him." 

This  conversation  had  been  above  little  Lisbeth.  While  it 
was  going  on  she  liad  kept  tapping  J5rn's  shoulder  with  the  tips 
of  her  fingers.  "  See  his  eyes!  "  she  said,  "  how  foxy  they  look, 
and  his  hair's  all  standing  on  end  like  the  quills  on  a  porcu- 
pine! "  And  she  came  running  up  to  him  from  behind  and  laid 
her  head  close  to  his.     And  her  hair  matched  his  for  fairness. 

"Come,"  said  Elsbe,  "just  be  quiet,  uncle;  I've  had  quite 
enough  of  your  speechifying." 

"  It  always  does  me  good  when  you  children  come,  Ficte. 
It's  like  getting  a  push  from  behind.  We  really  must  go  and 
bring  the  gelding  down  from  the  pine  paddock.  But  first  of  all 
I  must  show  you  what  a  splendid  journey  I've  been  making 
these  last  few  weeks." 

They  followed  him  to  his  bedroom,  a  big,  bare  room  with 
whitewashed  walls,  in  which  there  was  nothing  but  Thiess 
Thiessen's  bed,  a  clothes-chest,  and  a  couple  of  chairs.  The 
walls  were  covered  with  heavy  lines  in  blue  pencil,  represent- 
ing the  five  continents  and  the  two  hemispheres.  A  pile  of 
books  lay  upon  the  chairs.  It  was  here  that  Thiess  Thiessen 
undertook  his  long  voyages  and  stilled  his  yearning  for  strange 
lands.  He  told  them  how  in  the  past  week  he  had  sat  by  many 
a  bivouac-fire  on  a  journey  through  Central  Africa,  along  w  ith 
Livingstone,  and  what  trouble  they'd  had  in  getting  dried  goat's 
flesh  to  eat.  He  took  up  the  book  and  read  out  to  them  a  most 
thrilling  passage,  where  the  English  missionary  and  explorer 
concludes  a  treaty  of  peace  w  ith  a  fierce  and  barbarous  negro 

But  It  was  of  no  use.  Elsbe's  thoughts  were  of?  again.  "If 
we  stay  here  gabbling  like  this,"  she  said,  scornfully,  "  we  won't 
get  a  thing  done  all  day!  " 

They  went  out  and  brought  the  bay  horse  down  into  the 


70  JORNUHL 

lower  paddock.  No  sooner  was  that  done  than  they  were  on 
tenterhooks  to  see  Thiess's  new  boat. 

"  It's  a  fine  boat,  children.  She's  the  best  and  biggest  craft 
I've  ever  built."  There  she  lay  on  the  brownish  moor-water, 
made  fast  with  cables  to  the  shore  as  though  she  were  a  three- 
decker;  she  bore,  it  must  be  confessed,  a  distant  resemblance 
to  a  pig's  trough,  and  you  could  smell  the  pitch  that  had  been 
poured  into  her  seams  ten  paces  oft.  In  the  middle  a  mast 
soared  aloft,  flying  a  streamer  of  yellow  silk  that  had  been  cut 
out  of  granny's  shawl,  and  on  the  deck  stood  four  cannon  made 
of  old  rifle-barrels  soldered  together  by  the  village  smith,  and 
with  polished  touch-holes. 

It  was  simply  splendid!  And  they  all  praised  Thiess,  and 
said  that  this  time  he'd  really  done  something  worth  talking 
about.  Jorn  was  overjoyed,  and  was  for  going  on  board 
immediately.  Little  Lisbeth  was  the  only  one  to  eye  the  gay, 
many-patched  thing  with  distrust,  craning  her  neck  from  a  safe 
distance,  and  assuring  them  she  wouldn't  venture  into  it. 

Jorn  was  going  to  catch  hold  of  her  once  more,  feeling  as  if 
he  wanted  to  have  her  hands  in  his  again,  but  she  stepped  back, 
and  shook  her  head  with  such  a  grave  and  pretty  gesture  that 
he  at  once  desisted.  By  this  Thiess  was  again  in  high  glee  with 
himself.  He  wasn't  going  to  let  his  glory  be  diminished  in  any 
way,  and  so  he  said  he  was  going  to  make  the  first  trip  by 
himself.  He  stepped  rather  gingerly  into  the  crazy  vessel,  and 
seated  himself  cautiously  in  the  stern,  so  that  his  outstretched 
legs  rested  under  the  deck  about  midships. 

Elsbe  was  perched  on  a  willow  stump  that  hung  over  the 
water,  and  began  to  poke  fun  at  him.  "  What  if  you  should 
tip  over,  uncle?  There  you'll  hang,  head  downwards,  and  your 
feet  will  stick  in  the  boat." 

"  No  fear,  not  I !  " 

"  I  say,  Thiess,  she's  all  lopsided !  " 

"  Thiess,  you  know  what  an  unlucky  beggar  you  are." 

"Lopsided?  There's  nothing  lopsided  about  her!"  He 
searched  in  his  waistcoat  pocket,  and  laid  three  black-looking 
matches  on  the  deck  in  front  of  him. 

"  Now,  Thiess,  don't  be  trying  to  show  off!  You're  sure  to 
come  to  grief  if  you  do!  " 

Thiess  raised  himself  a  little  from  his  seat.  There  was  a 
sticky,  glutinous  sound.    The  children  burst  out  laughing,  cast- 


JORN     UHL  71 

ing  roguish  glances  at  each  other.  Fiete  Cray,  who  clearly  fore- 
saw the  approaching  catastrophe,  was  bent  double  with  laughter. 
"  Thiess,  you'll  capsize  as  sure  as  a  gun." 

With  two  cautious  thrusts  Thiess  pushed  safely  off  from  the 
bank  into  the  darkish  water.  He  laid  the  oar  very  deliberately 
down  in  front  of  him,  and  stretched  out  his  hand  for  the 
matches.  The  boat  gave  a  slight  roll,  as  though  inclined  to 
settle  down  into  a  different  position.  Thiess  tried  to  strike  the 
matches  on  tiie  main  deck,  but  they  would  not  light,  and  then, 
as  was  his  wont,  he  raised  his  leg  in  order  to  awake  the  slumber- 
ing fire,  in  the  correct  and  accustomed  spot.  The  trough  gave 
another  roll.  The  match  blazed  up.  To  the  touch-hole  with  it! 
Another  roll. 

"  Children,  this  was  the  way  we  fought  at  Eckenforde  on  the 
5th  of  April."'  There  was  a  flash  and  a  bang,  and  the  boat 
lurched  terribly  as  he  tried  to  jerk  himself  out  of  the  way  of 
the  muzzles.  But  the  pitch  held  him  fast.  Another  bang  and 
a  lurch,  and  in  the  midst  of  smoke  and  the  smell  of  sulphur 
and  powder  the  boat  turned  over,  and  Thiess  Thiessen  with  it. 

Jorn  Uhl  stood  up  to  his  knees  in  water  watching  the  spot. 
Fiete  Cray  said,  "It's  still  fizzling."  Elsbe  said,  "What  luck!  " 
and  Lisbeth  ran  away  crying.  For  a  moment  there  was  not  a 
sound  ;  the  moor,  and  all  of  them  held  their  breath.  Then  the 
water  began  to  boil  and  bubble  and  whirl.  Out  of  the  depths 
came  a  something,  all  slimy  and  black,  like  the  back  of  an 
immense  fish.  Sputtering  and  groaning,  and  panting  and  cough- 
ing, it  crept  ashore  on  all  fours. 

Thiess  tried  to  clear  his  eyes.  He  shook  himself  and  stamped, 
and  pitched  his  coat  and  boots  aside,  the  children  standing 
around  him  with  big,  anxious  eyes.  Fiete  was  rolling  on  the 
ground,  screaming  with  laughter.  Lisbeth,  who  had  just  stopped 
in  her  fright,  ran  still  farther  off. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Thiess,  spluttering,  "  this  is  a  thing  that 
happens  to  the  best  of  ships:  a  capsize  under  normal  conditions 
with  the  whole  crew  providentially  saved.  Besides,  she  was 
built  on  quite  a  new  plan,  Jorn.  She  must  have  been  a  bit 
narrow  in  the  beam,  though.  Well,  at  any  rate,  we've  seen 
and  experienced  and  learnt  something  fresh  to-day." 

"  I'd  like  to  know  what  you've  seen!  "  said  Elshe. 

He  looked  toward  the  water  where  the  boat  lay  floating  like 
a  great  turtle. 


72  JORNUHL 

"  You're  quite  right  there,  Elsbe,"  he  said,  still  spitting. 
"  It's  frightful  down  below  there.  Everj  thing  quite  dark,  and 
I  lost  my  bearings  completely.  I  had  to  think  pretty  hard 
before  I  found  which  was  the  way  to  the  top,  I  can  tell  you. 
You  must  bear  in  mind  that  I  had  all  four  elements  to  contend 
with,  first  fire,  sulphur,  and  pitch,  and  then  earth  and  water. 
All  these  were  present  in  too  great  abundance.  And,  lastly,  air, 
and  of  that  there  wasn't  enough.  Otherwise,  of  course,  I 
wouldn't  have  come  up  so  quickly,  for  you  can't  imagine  what 
strange  contortions  1  had  to  go  through  down  below  in  order 
to  get  free  from  the  boat."  And  thereupon  he  spat  once  more, 
and  went  home  to  change  his  clothes.  When  he  had  disappeared 
through  the  kitchen  door,  Jorn  said,  "  It's  always  the  same, 
whenever  we  come,  something  funny's  sure  to  happen."  Then 
he  caught  up  with  Lisbeth,  seized  her  by  the  hand,  and  talked 
about  all  sorts  of  amusing  things,  till  he  made  her  laugh  again. 

But  she  still  felt  afraid,  and  wanted  to  go  home,  so  he  took 
her  back  to  the  others,  and  told  them. 

"  That's  always  the  way,"  said  Elsbe,  "  Lisbeth  always  wants 
to  go  home  too  early." 

"  She  mustn't  come  with  us  any  more,"  said  Fiete.  "  I'm 
always  telling  you  that.  She's  too  little  and  too  prim.  But  you 
will  always  bring  her."     Lisbeth  stood  by  Jorn's  side  crying. 

"  I'm  going  home  with  her,"  said  Jorn,  "  straight  away.  You 
others  can  do  as  you  like." 

But  they  made  up  their  minds  that  they  w^ould  rather  all  go 
back  together.  So  they  waited  till  Thiess  returned,  and  he 
escorted  them  through  the  wood  to  the  edge  of  the  heath.  For 
a  long  time  he  stood  gazing  after  them,  shading  his  eyes  with 
his  hand,  till  at  last  the  setting  sun,  whose  light  had  been  soft- 
ened by  clouds  and  mist,  came  out  and  dazzled  his  eyes.  The 
children  no  longer  turned  to  look  back  at  him;  in  silence  they 
hurried  on  over  the  heath,  toward  Ringelshorn. 


CHAPTER   V. 

Klaus  Uhl  was  in  the  habit  of  prating  to  everj'  one  about  his 
youngest  boy.  His  boy  was  to  be  a  scholar,  he  said.  "  Jorn 
shall  go  to  the  University;  faith,  and  that's  the  end  of  it."  And 
when  he  was  half-tipsy  and  in  his  best  vein  and  beginning  to 
brag,  the  old  grand  ideas  about  Jorn's  future  would  return  to 
his  mind.  "  He  shall  be  Provost  some  day,"  he'd  say;  and  the 
farmers  and  dealers  sitting  with  him  at  the  table  would  laugh 
and  exclaim:  "He'll  turn  out  a  grand  fellow  like  Provost 
Lornsen  von  Sylt.  That's  the  sort  of  man  he  must  be!  Provost! 
Here's  to  the  health  of  Jorn  Uhl,  the  Provost." 

All  this  had  been  repeated  many  a  time,  and  it  had  become 
a  matter  of  honor  with  Klaus  Uhl.  But  although  he  often  met 
teachers  from  the  High  School  at  the  inn  in  town,  he  never 
asked  them  for  counsel  or  direction.  For  his  conscience  failed 
him.  He  feared  to  hear  that  a  clever,  shrewd  head  was  wanted 
for  such  a  life,  and  that  the  lad  would  have  to  go  to  school  at 
once;  and  he  feared  lest  there  should  be  other  unpleasant  ques- 
tions to  solve.  He  didn't  want  to  be  disturbed  in  his  loose 
living  and  easy-going  ways.  Only  on  one  occasion,  and  even 
then  in  the  most  casual  fashion,  did  he  mention  the  matter  to 
Dominie  Peters,  with  the  characteristic  indifference  of  the 
peasant.  And  when  the  latter  offered  to  give  the  lad  a  little 
extra  teaching  and  prepare  him  for  the  High  School,  the  offer 
was  accepted,  and  Klaus  Uhl  was  glad  that  for  the  present  he 
was  relieved  of  this  impleasant  responsibility. 

So  we  find  Jorn  Uhl,  with  his  short-cropped,  stiff,  fair  hair, 
sitting  by  old  Dominie  Peters  on  the  sofa.  His  deep-set  eyes 
peered  like  foxes  from  their  holes  into  the  English  book  in  front 
of  him,  eagerly  devouring  the  wisdom  they  found  there.  For  it 
was  Dominie  Peters's  creed  that  an  acquaintance  with  English 
is  the  stepping-stone  to  all  knowledge  and  to  every  high  dis- 
tinction in  life.     Sometimes,  when  they  had  a  few  moments  to 

73 


74  JORN     UHL 

spare,  the}-  would  do  a  little  Latin,  but  this  practice  was  soon 
discontinued. 

It  was  a  beautiful  summer's  day.  The  village  street  lay  silent 
in  the  white  sunlight,  shimmering  with  heat  between  the  lines  of 
green  trees.  The  lindens  along  the  footpath  cast  their  shadows 
upon  the  windows.    The  room  was  full  of  a  quiet  dark-reddish 

"  Jiirgen,"  said  the  old  man,  "  I  must  just  pop  out  and  see 
what  the  bees  are  up  to.  Go  on  translating  by  yourself  a  little, 
laddie;    I'll  be  back  in  a  minute." 

So  Jiirgen  went  on  with  his  translating  awhile.  A  bee  came 
in  through  the  open  window,  buzzed  about  the  room,  saw  that 
it  had  made  a  mistake,  buzzed  more  and  more  angrily,  till  at 
last  it  found  the  window  and  flew  out  again,  taking  the  boy's 
thoughts  with  it.  Lost  in  day-dreams  he  gazed  into  the  green 
shadow  and  air  of  the  garden.  Jorn  was  now  at  a  time  of  life 
when  the  wonder  of  the  world  filled  him  with  its  mystery  and 
aroused  an  intense  spirit  of  curiosity  in  his  mind.  His  love  of 
books  increased,  especially  of  such  as  give  a  clear,  firm  con- 
ception of  things,  and  later  on  he  took  to  those,  too,  that  soberly 
and  demurely  speculate  upon  life  and  its  problems.  He  used 
to  say  to  Fiete  in  those  days,  "  I  want  to  understand  the  whole 
world."  And  in  the  course  of  his  life  he  really  came  to  under- 
stand a  good  deal  of  it.  Fiete  Cray  used  to  reply,  "  For  my 
part,  I'll  be  content  when  I  have  twenty  thousand  pounds,  then 
I'll  buy  the  Uhl  for  myself  and  live  there  till  I  die."  And  now 
they  were  both  trying  to  realize  their  dreams.  Fiete  Cray,  who 
had  been  confirmed,  and  was  in  service  at  the  Uhl  as  stable- 
boy,  pulled  hair  out  of  the  horses'  tails  in  the  stable  and  sold  it 
for  good  money;  he  carried  on  a  small  trade  besides  on  his 
own  account  in  currycombs  and  whip-lashes.  Jiirgen  Uhl,  how- 
ever, pored  over  his  English  book  and  wondered  mightily  how 
human  beings  could  speak  such  a  queer  tongue. 

The  windows  were  wide  open.  Birds  were  singing  in  the 
lindens,  and  bees  were  humming  in  the  golden,  shadowy  air 
between  the  lindens  and  the  window.  Light  steps  were  heard, 
as  of  some  one  walking  on  tiptoe  along  by  the  house  wall,  and 
Lisbeth  Junker's  fair,  flaxen  head  appeared  above  the  window- 
sill. 

"Is  that  where  jou  are?"  she  said.     "Come  out  here." 

"What  are  you  doing,   Lisbeth?     Fishing?" 


J  O  R  N     U  H  L  75 

"  I've  caught  ten  big,  fat  fellows  already.  They've  just 
bitten  the  worm  off.  Do  come!  Grandfather  has  forgotten 
you  long  ago." 

"  What  a  look  your  hair  has!  "  says  he. 

"What?  Is  it  rough?"  She  wondered  at  his  finding  fault 
with  her,  hut  suddenly  she  understood  his  meaning.  "  Oh,  you 
mean  with  the  sunlight  on  it."  She  turned  her  head  around 
quickly.  "  Do  you  see,  Jorn  ?  There's  a  little  sunbeam  coming 
through  the  linden  and  making  straight  for  my  head  as  if  it 
wants  to  shoot  me.  Do  you  see?  But  it's  pretty  rough,  too. 
I  can  see  it  in  the  window.  I've  scrambled  through  the  hedge 
three  times  this  afternoon." 

"  I'd  have  thought  you'd  been  scrambling  through  the  sun." 

"  You  needn't  mind  coming  out,  Jorn.  You'll  easily  learn 
that  little  bit  another  time.  It  can't  be  as  difficult  as  all  that 
to  become  Provost." 

So  he  left  his  book  and  went  out  to  her.  He  was  always 
happy  to  do  her  bidding,  and  could  refuse  her  nothing,  for  she 
seemed  to  him  so  refined  and  ladylike  and  cleverness  itself.  In 
his  dealings  with  her  he  was  gentle  and  considerate,  as  every 
good  and  sensible  man  is  when  he  has  a  comrade  he  feels  to 
be  better  than  himself.  He  was  so  anxious  lest  he  should  dis- 
please her,  that  he  had  never  again  ventured  to  call  her  "  Rain- 
tweet,"  although  it  struck  him  over  and  over  again  as  something 
peculiarly  sweet  about  her  that  she  had  such  a  full,  clear  voice. 
It  sounded  like  pure  siKer  to  him.  A  rather  loud  and  vulgar 
tone  prevailed  at  that  time  among  the  village  children,  and  in 
his  father's  house  he  heard  much  that  was  rude  and  coarse.  It 
was  specially  fortunate  for  him  that  he  was  brought  into  con- 
tact with  this  child  in  those  critical  years  of  his  life.  For  she 
awakened  and  strengthened  everything  that  was  good  and  fine 
in  him. 

They  crept  through  the  fence  and  down  to  the  pond.  Now 
that  he  was  thirteen,  he  was  properly  too  old  to  go  fishing  for 
sticklebacks,  but  she  took  things  as  such  a  matter  of  course  that 
he  could  never  say  no.  And  he  was  always  happy,  too,  when 
he  did  anything  that  gave  her  pleasure.  And  ever>'thing  that 
gave  her  pleasure  and  everything  that  she  asked  of  him,  he  could 
do  with  a  good  conscience.  Although  she  sometimes  wanted 
things  that  required  a  slight  sacrifice  of  his  boyish  dignity,  her  re- 
quests were  never  at  all  silly,  which  could  not  be  said  of  Elsbe's. 


76  JORNUHL 

They  were  sitting  side  by  side  in  the  grass  under  a  bush,  talk- 
ing softly  together.     She  was  asking  him  about  Elsbe  and  Fiete. 

"  What  is  Fiete  going  to  be,  Jorn  ?  will  he  be  a  hawker  like 
his  father  and  the  other  Grays?" 

"  No,  he  doesn't  want  to." 

"  What,  then  ?  " 

"  Oh,  sometimes  he  thinks  of  going  to  the  California  diggings, 
and  sometimes  he  thinks  he'd  like  to  be  coachman  to  the  Provost, 
I  think." 

"  You  mean  your  coachman.  He  had  much  better  do  that 
than  go  gold-digging.  .  .  .  It's  frightfully  hot  to-day." 

For  a  long  time  they  were  silent.  The  sun  shone  and  the 
birds  sang,  and  gradually,  gradually,  her  rod  shpped  deeper 
and  deeper  into  the  water,  her  head  nodded  and  sank  on  to  his 
shoulder,  overpowered  with  coming  sleep. 

It  seemed  as  though  a  spell  of  enchantment  was  over  every- 
thing. As  though  those  were  not  real  houses  whose  walls  and 
doorways  peeped  out  here  and  there  between  the  lindens,  as 
though  they  were  not  real  lindens  at  all,  with  their  deep  shadowy 
green  and  silent  leaves,  but  as  if  houses  and  trees  and  the  sur- 
face of  the  pond,  and  the  children  with  their  rods  along  its 
banks,  all  belonged  to  some  wonderful  painting  where  one  ought 
to  keep  as  still  as  a  mouse.  For  it  is  not  customary  for  people 
to  move  about  in  a  picture.  And  it  was  all  clearly  and  finely 
and  most  lovingly  painted,  with  a  touch  of  plain,  rustic  honesty 
and  rough,  hearty  fruitfulness  in  it,  and  it  hung  in  God's  best 
chamber. 

The  fishing-rod  lay  deep  in  the  water,  and  the  maiden  rested 
upon  his  shoulder,  and  the  boy  gazed  with  thoughtful  eyes  far 
into  the  picture  of  which  he  himself  was  a  part,  and  felt  her 
hair  upon  his  cheek  and  her  light,  beautiful  breathing,  and  did 
not  stir. 

From  far  off  a  light  vehicle  was  approaching  along  the  village 
street,  and  stopped  in  front  of  the  schoolhouse.  The  slumbering 
maiden  was  wakened  by  it.  Dominie  Peters  came  hurrying 
from  somewhere  among  the  trees  in  the  garden  and  went  up 
wonderingly  to  a  gray-haired,  bent  old  man  who  was  already 
standing  in  the  gateway,  and  said: 

"Will  you  come  inside,  sir?" 

"  I  think  we  might  remain  in  the  garden,"  said  the  Provost, 
"  and  walk  up  and  down  a  little.     I  have  a  message  for  you 


JORNUHL  77 

from  my  wife.  She  would  like  some  more  of  the  winter  apples 
that  we  had  from  you  last  year." 

They  talked  awhile  about  this  matter,  then  the  visitor  sud- 
denly chanj2;ed  his  chatty  tone  and  said,  in  a  low,  grave  voice, 
"  But  my  coming;  has  another  object.  I  have  known  you  now 
for  many  years,  and  can  rely  on  your  judgment  of  people  and 
things.  V  ou  judge  discreetly,  like  a  man  who  is  by  nature  of 
a  sober  and  quiet  disposition,  and  who,  pursuing  his  vocation 
in  contact  with  the  people,  has  gathered  a  great  deal  of  expe- 
rience and  a  little  property  in  the  course  of  jears."  He  smiled 
softly.  "  The  latter  I  take  to  be  a  fact  of  some  importance," 
said  he.  "  I  wouldn't  care  about  having  the  advice  of  a  man  in 
economic  affairs,  who  has  not  himself  a  small  stock  of  self-con- 
densed diligence,  /.  e.  money  out  at  interest.  1  would  like  to  ask 
you  about  the  marsh-farmers  here  —  I  mean  the  Uhls." 

The  old  schoolmaster,  a  little  excited  by  the  honor  done  him, 
and  delighted  at  the  chance  of  being  able  to  do  a  good  work, 
gave  his  information  in  a  reserved  voice.  "  Klaus  Uhl  is  the 
worst  of  them.  He  sets  an  example  which  corrupts  many  of 
the  others.  In  spite  of  a  benevolent  and  peaceable  nature,  he 
is  a  fool  out  of  sheer  arrogance.  The  children  on  the  playground 
imitate  his  way  of  looking  the  people  of  the  poorer  families  up 
and  down.  '  Don't  act  the  grand  like  Klaus  Uhl,'  they  say, 
when  any  one's  proud.  And  it's  said  that  he  always  pays  poor 
folk  their  wages  out  of  his  waistcoat  pocket,  even  when  it's 
hundreds  of  marks." 

So  the  two  men  walked  up  and  down  the  garden  path,  con- 
tinuing their  talk. 

"  What  can  the  farms  produce,  then,  if  the  owners  live  in  such 
a  fashion?  Everything  is  only  half-done.  The  servants  sleep 
and  dawdle  away  their  time,  the  animals  are  neglected,  and  the 
soil  becomes  impoverished.  But  the  worst  of  it  is  that  the 
children,  who  are  growing  up,  witness  the  dissolute  life  of  their 
parents,  and  take  this  slovenly  management  to  be  the  proper 
state  of  affairs,  and  rush  into  poverty  as  hungry  calves  rush 
against  a  wall." 

"And  the  women,  what  about  them?" 

"  There  are  some  who  urge  their  husbands,  as  soon  as  he  gets 
a  little  tired  of  it,  to  return  to  his  wild  hte,  and  take  part  in  it 
themselves.  There  is  one  woman,  mother  of  eight  children, 
who  told  me  without  a  blush  that  seven  times,  night  after  night 


78  JORNUHL 

last  week,  she  was  at  parties  until  daybreak ;  and  I  know  another 
who  drove  through  the  farmyard  and  had  her  six-year-old  child 
lifted  up  into  the  cart  to  her,  saying  in  the  presence  of  the  farm- 
hand, veiling  her  braggadocio  under  the  form  of  regrets,  *  I 
haven't  seen  the  poor  little  brat  for  eight  days.  In  the  morning 
when  I  get  up  he's  already  off  to  school,  and  of  an  evening  when 
he  comes  home  his  mother  has  flown  away  again.  What's  one 
to  do,  though  ?  One  invitation  after  another !  '  As  you  well 
know,  sir,  when  women  once  give  way  to  foolishness,  their 
foolishness  knows  no  bounds.  Of  course  there  are  other  women, 
too,  who  sit  at  home,  silent  and  worried,  doing  their  work  and 
looking  after  the  farm,  full  of  forebodings  for  the  future." 

"  There's  one  thing  more  I  want  you  to  tell  me!  Unfortu- 
nately I  can't  prevent  a  man  from  bringing  himself  and  his  fam- 
ily to  misery.  But  I've  learned  from  private  information  that 
several  investors  or  agents,  of  doubtful  reputation,  have  been 
attracted  by  the  ill  odor  of  this  parish,  and  are  here  trying  to 
decoy  our  people  into  '  Ultimo  gambling.'  " 

The  old  schoolmaster  looked  thoughtfully  on  the  ground. 
"  I  recollect  now  that  Klaus  Uhl  at  our  last  savings-bank  meet- 
ing had  a  conversation  with  Karsten  Rievedl  about  a  number  of 
different  kinds  of  scrip,  and  that  the  word  ultimo  was  men- 
tioned.    What  is  this  '  ultimo,'  Provost?  " 

"  Well !  when  a  farmer  begins  speculating,  he  soon  loses  his 
money,  doesn't  he?" 

"Yes,  invariably!  Jochen  Mill  lost  one  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand  marks  in  three  weeks." 

"There  you  are!  And  the  point  is  that  when  a  man  plays 
Ultimo  he  can  afterward  say  quite  exactly  when  he  lost  his 
money,  that's  the  only  difference.  But  what's  that  you  said 
about  Jochen  Mill?     In  three  weeks,  did  you  say?" 

"  Yes.  He  sold  his  farm  and  went  to  Hamburg.  In  three 
years  he  said  he  would  be  ten  times  richer  than  he  was  already. 
He  fell  an  easy  prey  to  them.  All  the  sharks  that  infest  the 
exchange  after  one  single  stupid  peasant!  They  used  to  stand 
outside  in  crowds  waiting  for  him,  and  help  him  down  from 
his  horse,  for  he  was  far  too  grand  to  go  on  foot.  Every  time 
he  came,  it's  said,  there  was  quite  a  fuss  made  over  him.  Some 
overdid  it,  taking  off  their  coats  and  offering  to  lay  them  on 
the  steps,  so  that  his  feet  shouldn't  touch  the  earth  as  he  en- 
tered the  hall.     But  he  didn't  see  through  all  this  mockery. 


JORNUHL  79 

He  thought  onl}-  of  '  the  honor!  —  the  honor  of  it !  '  At  the 
end  of  eiglit  weeks  he  was  without  a  penny.  His  relatives 
bought  him  a  small  public-house  near  Hamburg,  where  he  now 
sells  '  half  and  half,'  as  they  call  it." 

"  Come,"  said  the  Provost,  "  now  we  will  go  into  the  orchard 
and  feast  our  eyes  for  awhile." 

"  There's  not  much  to  see  this  year,  sir;  the  codlin-moth  has 
made  great  ravages  among  the  apples." 

"  Well,  well !  .  ,  .  And  yet  it  soothes  one  to  get  away  from 
them  and  their  mistakes  and  come  into  contact  with  Nature;  to 
see  how  bravely  and  unostentatiously  she  undergoes  misfortune 
and  fights  against  it,  just  like  some  honest,  energetic  soul  who 
fights  his  way  manfully  through  life  up  to  the  very  last." 

They  went  down  into  the  orchard. 

"  Well,"  said  Jorn,  as  he  laid  the  rod  aside,  "  it's  time  for 
me  to  go  in  now  and  finish  my  lessons.  There's  a  fearfully 
difficult  bit  in  that  piece  of  English."  He  forced  his  way  back 
through  the  bushes,  went  into  the  room,  and  opened  his  book 
again.  Soon  afterward  the  carriage  drove  away,  and  the  old 
schoolmaster  came  in  again. 

"  What !  are  you  still  here,  Jorn  ?  Have  you  been  here  all 
the  time  at  the  open  window?     Did  you  hear  us  talking?' 

"  No,  I've  been  sitting  with  Lisbeth." 

"Where,  then?" 

"  Dow'n  by  the  pond.     We've  been  fishing  for  sticklebacks." 

"  Oh,  that's  what  you've  been  doing!  " 

He  walked  up  and  down,  looked  out  of  the  window  and  came 
back  again. 

"  Jorn,  do  you  know  what?  A  lad  must  be  able  to  hold  his 
tongue  else  he'll  never  make  a  man." 

"  I  know  how  to  hold  my  tongue,  too,  if  need  be,"  said  Jorn 
Uhl,  staring  with  hard  eyes  into  space. 

"And,  Jorn,  .  .  .  since  it  just  occurs  to  me  I'll  tell  j'ou 
something.  It  can  do  you  no  harm  to  hear  it.  When  I  was 
a  boy,  old  people  who've  been  sleeping  in  their  graves  this  many 
a  year  have  told  me  how  your  great-grandfather  used  to  leap 
over  the  ditches  with  a  great  ditch-pole  he  had,  and  come  straight 
across  the  fields  to  church.  He  was  a  tall,  gaunt  man  with  bent 
shoulders,  and  used  to  wear  a  high  black  hat,  as  was  the  custom 
in  those  days.     He  was  the  Jorn  Uhl  who  entertained  the  then 


8o  JORNUHL 

King  of  Prussia  for  two  days  as  his  guest.  Have  you  ever  heard 
the  story?  " 

"  \'es,  I  have  heard  about  it  from  Wieten." 

"  Not  from  your  father?  Did  jour  father  never  speak  of  it? 
Well,  the  king  and  Jorn  Uhl  stayed  up  half  the  night  discussing 
the  state  of  the  district,  and  Jorn  Uhl  is  said  to  have  made  use 
of  some  very  hard  expressions.  '  Sirrah,'  said  the  king,  *  you 
forget  that  you  are  speaking  with  your  sovereign.'  Jorn  Uhl, 
however,  answered  in  a  loud  voice,  '  If  you  were  a  true  sov- 
ereign you  would  uncloak  all  such  frauds  and  not  suffer  such 
worthless  fellows  to  be  in  your  service.'  The  king  defended  him- 
self, saying,  '  The  kingdom  is  too  big,  Uhl,  I  can't  look  after 
everything.'  But  the  old  man  replied,  '  The  summer  dikes  are 
big,  too,  and  yet  I  know  every  drift  and  channel  of  them,  and 
every  ox  that  grazes  on  them.'  In  short,  next  day  there  was 
an  inspection  of  the  Civil  Service  arrangements  of  the  dis- 
trict, and  three  officials,  who  had  used  their  office  for  their  own 
ends  and  grown  wealthy,  were  hunted  out  in  dire  disgrace. 
Your  great-grandfather  was  given  supervision  of  the  matter. 
It  was  on  the  occasion  of  this  visit,  too,  that  he  persuaded  the 
king  to  undertake  the  construction  of  new  dikes,  and  advanced 
him  thirty  thousand  thalers.  For  his  Majesty  had  no  money 
of  his  own  for  the  purpose.  That  all  happened  exactly  as  I've 
told  you,  Jorn. 

"  After  a  few  years,  this  hard-working,  good  king  died,  and 
the  next  that  came  to  the  helm  didn't  take  his  duties  as  ruler 
nearly  so  seriously.  The  state  fell  behind,  and  to  make  matters 
worse  a  long  war  ensued.  Thus  it  came  about  that  your  great- 
grandfather got  no  interest  on  his  money,  and  soon  remarked, 
for  he  was  a  shrewd,  level-headed  man,  that  his  capital  was  also 
in  danger.  So  he  quickly  made  up  his  mind,  and  set  out  for  the 
city  where  the  king  lived. 

"  Now  what  follows  I  am  not  quite  clear  about:  I  can  only 
tell  you  the  story  as  the  old  people  here  used  to  tell  it  to  me. 
Your  great-grandfather  —  his  hair  was  already  quite  white  with 
age  —  goes  to  the  king's  castle  and  asks  to  see  the  king.  The 
servant  looked  at  him  rather  disparagingly,  and  told  him  the 
king  wasn't  to  be  seen ;  but  he  replied  that  his  name  was  Jorn 
Uhl  of  Wentorf,  and  demanded  that  he  should  be  announced. 
But  the  servant  still  showing  no  signs  of  haste,  the  old  man 
gave  a  few  tremendous  puffs  from  his  meerschaum  pipe,  and 


JORNUHL  81 

lifted  his  stick,  and  at  last  found  himself  before  the  door  of  the 
king's  chamlx-r,  and  was  announced  to  his  Majesty.  While  he 
was  putting  iiis  pipe  and  stick  away  in  a  corner  and  preparing 
to  enter,  he  saw  the  king  coming  toward  him,  dressed  in  a  new- 
fangled thing  called  a  dressing-gown,  and  holding  the  big 
shiny  star  of  some  order  in  his  hand  and  smiling  benignly.  In 
a  trice  Jcirn  Uhl  had  turned  around  and  was  gathering  up  his 
things  from  the  corner.  But  when  the  king  followed  him  in 
spite  of  that,  he  held  his  pipe  and  stick  up  before  him  as  if  in 
self-defence,  crying,  '  It's  my  money,  not  decorations,  that  I 
want,'  and  made  off  down  the  stairs  as  fast  as  he  could  go. 
Then  he  went  to  the  king's  ministers.  He  lost  a  good  deal  of 
the  money,  for  the  w  hole  state  was  bankrupt,  but  he  didn't  lose 
nearly  as  much  as  many  another. 

"His  son,  then,  your  grandfather.  .  .  .  H'm!  .  .  .  Well, 
a  good-humored,  kindly  sort  of  man  he  was.  But  that's  all 
you  can  say  about  him,  Jorn.  And  it's  not  much,  is  it?  It's 
a  bad  state  of  affairs  when  you  can't  say  anything  to  a  man's 
credit  except  that  he  was  good-humored.  His  speech  was  soft 
enough  and  didn't  go  very  deep,  and  the  same  could  be  said 
of  his  ploughing.     I  used  to  know  him  well. 

"  And  then  your  father  got  the  farm.  .  .  .  Well  .  .  .  your 
father  .  .  ." 

The  lad  suddenly  raised  his  head  and  looked  the  old  man 
straight  in  the  face,  as  though  to  say:  "  I  know  well  enough 
what  you'\e  got  in  mind.  But  I  am  not  going  to  let  you  see 
that  I  believe  it." 

But  the  old  man  did  not  continue  after  seeing  the  boy's 
glance.  He  kept  passing  his  fingers  through  his  long  gray 
beard,  as  though  he  were  going  to  pull  those  venerable  thickets 
away  by  the  roots.  At  last,  resuming  the  stiff,  loud  tone  of 
the  schoolmaster,  he  said :  "  What  does  the  great  poet  Goethe, 
the  herald  of  the  century  we  are  living  in,  say?  'All  that  a 
man  inherits  from  his  father  must  be  earned  afresh  by  him  if  he 
means  to  possess  it.'  .  .  .  Now  go  home,  Jorn.  I  must  be  oft'. 
I've  got  a  savings-bank  meeting  to  attend." 

Early  next  morning,  just  after  the  stars  had  vanished  from 
the  blue-gray  sky,  the  lad  got  up  and  went  singing  and  whistling 
and  banging  doors  through  the  w  iiole  house,  and  came  into  the 


82  JORNUHL 

stables.  Wieten  was  standing  in  the  passage  with  the  milk-pails 
in  her  hand. 

"  Laddie,  what's  come  into  your  head  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Why, 
it's  not  four  o'clock  yet." 

He  laughed,  and  said  ingenuously  that  he  didn't  want  to  stay 
in  bed,  it  was  too  hot  for  him.     "  Where's  Fiete?  "  he  asked. 

"  I've  managed  to  get  him  to  turn  out,"  said  she.  "  I've  still 
power  over  him,  at  least." 

He  went  whistling  up  and  down  the  dairy,  and  then  went 
back  to  Wieten  Penn  and  asked  where  the  milkmaids  were. 

"  I  am  afraid,  laddie,  the  hussies  are  still  in  bed.  You're 
not  going  to  go  and  wake  them,  are  you?  " 

"You've  got  the  management  of  the  house,  haven't  you? 
Why  don't  you  bid  them  get  up?  " 

"  That's  easier  said  than  done,"  said  she.  "  They're  on  too 
intimate  terms  with  Alick  and  Hinnerk,  so  they  sleep  it  out  a 
bit  longer,  and  I  can  say  nothing." 

He  went  along  the  passage  to  the  servants'  quarters,  and  as 
he  passed  flung  a  few  pieces  of  wood  that  were  lying  near  the 
kitchen  against  the  door  of  the  girls'  bedroom,  and  sang  and 
whistled  so  that  his  fresh  boyish  voice  rang  through  the  early 
stillness  of  the  house.  He  sang  like  a  thrush  that  sings  in  the 
orchard  when  the  day  is  young,  proud  of  its  song,  and  at  the 
same  time  very  shy. 

Then  he  went  out  so  as  to  pass  along  under  the  windows, 
and  to  his  astonishment  saw  his  brother  Hans,  who  had  been 
confirmed  three  years  before,  coming  over  the  fields  from  toward 
the  village.  He  went  to  meet  him,  his  whole  face  beaming, 
and  called  gaily  to  his  brother,  "  Hans,  old  chap,  I  thought 
you  were  still  in  bed.  Have  you  been  to  the  mill  so  early,  or 
was  it  to  the  smith?  " 

His  brother  came  up  to  him  and  struck  him.  *'  You  young 
lout!  "  he  said,  with  thick,  drunken  voice,  striking  him  a  blow 
on  the  chest  and  driving  him  into  the  stable.  He  tried  to  repeat 
the  blow,  but  missed,  and  had  to  lean  against  a  horse.  It  grew 
restive  and  began  to  stamp  the  ground.  Fiete  came  running  out 
from  among  the  horses  with  the  currycomb  in  his  hand. 

"  What's  going  on  here?  You've  been  hitting  Jorn.  Don't 
touch  him,  I'd  advise  you,  or  I  tell  you  the  two  of  us  will  give 
you  such  a  hammering  that  you  won't  be  able  to  stand." 

That  afternoon,  as  the  farmer  was  preparing  to  drive  into 


JORNUHL  83 

town  as  usual,  Jorn  offered  to  harness  the  horses  and  bring 
them  around  to  the  front  door.  He  did  his  task  quickly  and 
correctly,  and  came  smartly  trottinj^  around  the  corner  of  the 
house  with  the  two  spruce  bays;  then  he  jumped  down  and 
stood  in  front  of  the  horses,  holding  the  leader  by  the  reins 
and  tipping  him  on  the  nose  now  and  again,  and  each  time  he 
did  so  he  hunuiied  the  words,  "  Ultimo  is  madness." 

Klaus  Uhl,  who  was  in  the  big  room,  said:  "  Do  you  hear 
the  little  sneak,  Wieten?  What's  he  got  in  his  head  now?" 
and  he  laughed. 

"  He's  been  singing  all  the  morning,"  she  said. 

And  he  was  still  singing  away,  "  Ultimo  is  madness." 

"  What  are  you  singing  there?  "  shouted  Klaus  Uhl. 

"  Oh!  "  he  said,  complacently,  "  the  Provost  was  at  Dominie 
Peters's  house  yesterday,  and  I  chanced  to  hear  him  say,  '  All 
who  play  Ultimo  go  bankrupt.'  " 

"  Do  they,  really?  "  He  got  into  the  cart,  laughing  heartily. 
*'  I  say,  youngster,"  said  he,  "  my  advice  to  you  is,  then,  never 
to  play  Ultimo." 

Jorn  burst  into  loud  laughter  and  his  father  drove  away. 
You  still  heard  that  hearty  young  laughter  of  his  that  welled 
forth  so  free  and  joyous.  Although  at  this  time  he  was  growing 
so  fast,  and  getting  up  early  was  such  a  difficult  thing  for  him, 
he  got  Fiete  Cray  to  wake  him  every  morning,  and  went,  as  it 
were  by  chance,  through  kitchen,  stables,  and  fields,  becoming 
a  sort  of  restless,  wandering  conscience  for  the  others. 

Once  when  two  horse-dealers  were  standing  in  the  stable, 
and,  in  the  absence  of  his  father,  bargaining  with  Alick,  the 
eldest  son,  he  stood  by  and  listened.  One  of  the  dealers  said, 
"  I  say,  my  lad,  just  go  to  the  yard  and  see  if  our  horses  are 
all  right."  And  he  went.  Afterward  the  one  said  to  the  other, 
"  Strange  how  the  eyes  of  that  youngster  disturbed  me.  He 
looked  at  me  as  if  I  were  a  horse-thief."  The  other  laughed. 
"  It  struck  me,  too.  he  held  us  with  his  glance.  I  had  to  keep 
looking  at  him.  Just  watch  it,  he's  the  only  one  of  Klaus  Uhl's 
boys  that'll  come  to  anything.     He's  a  shrewd  customer." 

And  another  time,  when  the  brothers  were  weighing  out  some 
loads  of  hay  for  a  purchaser,  he  was  again  there,  and  at  last 
pointed  out  a  mistake  in  the  weight.  "  He's  getting  too  much," 
he  said.  The  brothers,  who  were  tipsy,  and  the  purchaser,  who 
had  a  shrewd  relish  for  a  joke,  laughed  ;    but  when  the  latter 


84  JORNUHL 

noticed  that  the  lad  was  In  earnest,  he  complained  in  a  tone  of 
offended  dignity  that  he  couldn't  put  up  with  such  remarks, 
especially  from  a  raw  youngster;  such  a  thing  had  never  hap- 
pened to  him  before.  Then  the  brothers  got  into  a  rage,  and 
hunted  him  from  the  barn  with  their  hay-forks.  He  went  into 
the  lields  and  walked  for  hours  and  hours  beside  Fiete  Cray, 
who  was  ploughing. 

That  autumn  Elsbe  and  Lisbeth  Junker  had  sewing  lessons 
together,  and  a  little  French  from  old  Grandmother  Peters. 
She  was  a  kindly  old  woman  who,  for  more  than  forty  years, 
had  shared  her  husband's  joys  and  sorrows,  but  in  the  matter 
of  foreign  languages  the  two  had  never  been  able  to  come  to 
an  understanding.  In  her  youth  the  wife  had  learnt  French 
and  praised  and  taught  this  language.  Her  husband,  however, 
had  got  on  so  far  in  English  that  he  could  read  a  not  over- 
difficult  book  in  that  tongue,  and  then,  besides,  he  had  now  and 
again  a  chance  of  speaking  with  English  sailors.  Each  of  the 
old  people  had  tried  to  learn  the  other's  language  into  the 
bargain,  but  had  had  to  give  it  up.  And  so  one  might  often  see 
this  kindly  old  couple,  sitting  each  in  a  window  nook,  plodding 
away  at  French  or  English,  and  interrupting  and  teasing  each 
other  at  times  in  Low  German,  each  anathematizing  the  other's 
language  and  the  people  who  spoke  it. 

Elsbe  Uhl,  who  had  cost  her  mother  her  life,  was  full  of 
excessive  vigor  and  jollity,  as  is  often  the  case  with  people  who, 
though  born  of  tall,  strong  parents,  have  themselves  remained 
short  of  stature.  She  was  small  for  her  eleven  years,  but  she 
was  full  of  sap  and  strength  and  lithe  as  a  young  ash.  Her 
elder  brothers  took  no  notice  of  her  whatever,  but  she  was  hand 
and  glove  with  her  brother  Jiirgen  and  Fiete  Cray.  Often 
when  she  was  on  her  way  from  the  village  over  the  meadows  of 
an  afternoon,  the  two  would  stand  by  the  stable  door  and  look 
out  for  her.  And  she  would  raise  her  school-bag  high  above  her 
head  and  wave  with  it,  and  sometimes,  when  the  fancy  took  her, 
she  would  make  a  haughty  face  at  them  and  turn  her  head  aside, 
out  of  mischief.  She  called  that  the  "  side- face  view,"  for  Fiete 
had  said  she  looked  better  from  the  side,  especially  from  the 
left  side,  than  she  did  from  the  front.  The  whole  of  her  tiny 
person  was  in  motion,  her  feet  slipping  and  sliding,  her  dress 
beating  against  knees  and  hips,  her  arms  swinging  as  though 
she  was  fighting  her  way  through  the  high   reeds  instead  of 


J  O  R  N     U  H  L  85 

through  the  blustering  w  itul.  And  when  she  came  to  the  plank 
over  the  ditch  she  vvouKl  shout  through  the  roar  and  swish  of  the 
wind  in  the  trees,  "  Shall  1  walk  nicely,  or  shall  1  jump  it?  " 

"  Jump  it!  "  the  boys  shout  back. 

The  kitchen  window  would  fly  open  and  Wieten  would  cry, 
"  Don't  let  those  stupid  boys  be  leading  you  into  mischief, 
Elsbe!" 

"  Does  it  worry  you  when  I  jump,  Wieten?  " 

"  No,  not  at  all,  God  forbid !  Do  as  you  like,"  and  she  slams 
the  window. 

The  books  fly  over  first,  then  follows  Elsbe  with  a  short, 
swift  run.  She  would  jump  it,  but  her  knees  would  give  way 
a  little.    Then  she'd  cry,  "  Wasn't  that  a  fine  jump,  now?  " 

Fiete  nodded  with  a  sly  wink,  and  sent  Jorn  away  to  the 
kitchen  to  fetch  their  supper.  When  he  was  gone  he  whistled 
softly  to  himself,  gaxing  into  space.  "  Do  you  know  what, 
Elsbe,  many  a  time  I've  carried  you  along  this  path  In  my  arms, 
when  you  were  so  big." 

"That's  a  lie,  Fiete!" 

"  But  if  I  tell  you  you've  caught  a  nice  old  cold  and  have 
got  both  your  feet  soaking  wet,  there'll  be  no  lie  about  that." 
She  laughed.     "  Don't  tell   Wieten.     Wait,  I'll  be  back  in  a 


mmute." 


After  awhile  she  returned.  "  I've  got  the  stockings  all  right 
without  her  noticing  it.     I'll  put  them  on  here  in  a  jiffy." 

She  went  into  an  empty  horse-stall,  changed  her  stockings, 
and  came  out  again.  "  Now  keep  your  eyes  open,"  she  said. 
She  took  a  wild  run  as  she  had  done  before  at  the  ditch  and 
leapt  into  his  outstretched  arms,  hanging  around  his  neck  and 
dangling  hands  and  feet,  and  shouting  with  laughter.  And  he 
held  her  fast. 

"  Lassie,  little  Whitey,"  he  said,  "  you're  just  for  all  the 
world  like  a  wild  bee." 

"  Sst!    let  me  go,  Jcirn's  coming." 

He  quickly  let  go  of  her,  and  when  Jorn  came  along  the  path 
with  the  slices  of  bread  they  looked  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

It  was  a  good  thing  for  this  lusty,  lively  girl  that  the  first 
pride  of  nascent  manlmnd  awoke  next  year  In  her  friend,  Fiete 
Cray,  and  that  he  held  the  child,  "  little  Whitey,"  as  he  called 
her,  somewhat  at  a  distance,  and  gave  his  heart  to  the  maid 
that  worked  under  Wieten  in  the  kitchen,  a  spruce,  red-cheeked 


86  JORNUHL 

girl  who  was  of  the  same  age  as  himself,  and  returned  his 
affection.  He  was  a  rogue,  being  a  Cray,  and  didn't  altogether 
break  with  little  Elsbe. 

About  All  Saints'  Day,  she  one  day  came  back  from  her 
sewing  lesson,  and  found  Fiete  and  Jorn  in  the  stable. 

"  Dominie  Peters,  who  pokes  his  nose  into  everything,  was 
saying  to-day  that  it  was  liard  times  for  many  people  just  now, 
because  they  have  to  pay  interest  that's  due  now.  I'm  just 
wondering  whether  any  one'll  come  to  us  and  bring  father 
interest." 

Jorn's  eyes  shyly  scanned  the  faces  of  his  companions.  Fiete 
whistled. 

A  few  minutes  later,  w'hen  they  had  finished  their  supper, 
a  little,  old  man,  quite  straight  and  stiff,  with  short,  iron-gray 
hair  and  a  shrewd,  clean-shaven  face,  came  across  the  courtyard 
up  to  the  trio,  and  asked  whether  the  farmer  was  at  home.  Elsbe 
said  that  he  had  gone  to  the  village  and  would  soon  be  back. 

"  I  want  to  see  him,"  said  the  old  man.  The  three  looked  at 
him,  and  as  he  seemed  tired,  Fiete  said,  good-humoredly,  "  Go 
inside  for  a  little,  till  the  master  comes  back." 

The  two  children  accompanied  him  across  the  hall  and  were 
about  to  show  him  into  tiie  parlor  when  Hinnerk  and  Hans 
came  out  of  the  kitchen. 

"Who  have  you  got  there?"  asked  Hinnerk,  and  they 
looked  at  the  stiff  little  man  disdainfully.  He  had  on  a  long 
blue  coat  of  home-made  stufF,  such  as  people  wear  to-day  on 
the  Geest.  His  boots  were  gray  with  sand,  and  he  had  his 
supper  tied  up  in  a  red-checked  handkerchief. 

The  children  said  that  the  man  wanted  to  see  their  father. 

"  Well,"  said  the  two  elder  ones,  "  that's  no  reason  why  you 
should  take  him  into  the  good  room.  Let  him  go  into  Fiete 
Cray's  little  room." 

The  old  man  went  with  the  two  children  into  the  servants' 
room,  sat  down  there,  and  asked,  in  a  kindly  tone,  "  Are  you 
Klaus  Uhl's  two  youngest  children?"  "Yes,"  said  Elsbe; 
"  I'm  twelve  and  Jorn's  fourteen." 

"You're  kind  children,"  he  said;  "your  brothers  judged  by 
my  coat,  and  saw  that  I'm  a  Geester.  I  always  fetch  my  supper 
with  me  from  home,  then  I  don't  need  to  go  to  the  inn  and 
squander  money." 


JORNUHL  87 

Jorn  said,  with  ^rcat  earnestness,  "  We  two,  Elsbe  and  I,  are 
always  quite  homelj',  and  don't  intend  ever  to  go  to  the  inn." 

"  But  u  hen  there's  a  ball  we  will,"  said  Elsbe. 

"  I  never  shall,"  said  Jorn;   "  not  as  long  as  I  live." 

"  That's  right,"  said  the  old  man,  smiling,  "  then  you  won't 
need  to  live  in  poverty  in  your  old  age,  and  you  can  live  in 
peace  on  your  interest." 

Jiirn  became  suddenly  silent,  turned  around  and  left  the 
room.  He  ran  like  a  hunted  hare  across  the  hall,  and  knocked 
against  his  father,  who  had  just  come  home  with  flushed  and 
jovial  face. 

"  There's  a  little  man  from  the  Geest  here  who  wants  to 
speak  to  you.     He's  in  the  servants'  room." 

"W^hat?  In  the  servants'  room?"  He  crossed  the  hall 
hastily  toward  the  room.  As  Hans  got  in  his  way  he  gave  him 
a  cuff  on  the  ear  that  sent  him  staggering  against  the  wall ;  then 
he  stepped  into  the  little  room.  It  was  years  since  he  had 
been  there:  for  what  did  his  servants  or  what  Fiete  Cray 
concern  him  ?  There  sat  the  old  man,  and  Elsbe  was  standing 
close  in  front  of  him.  and  they  were  just  telling  each  other 
stories  about  Thiess  Thiessen,  whom  tliey  both  knew  well. 

"Get  out  of  this!  "  said  Klaus  Uhl.  "  I'm  sorry.  Martens, 
that  these  stupid  youngsters  should  have  brought  you  in  here." 

The  old  man  waved  his  hand  as  if  to  say  it  didn't  matter. 
I   haven't  come  here  in  order  to  be  made  a  fuss  over,  but 
to  give  you  notice  that  I'm  going  to  call  in  my  eighty  thousand 
marks.     My  daughter's  going  to  get  married." 

Jiirgcn  had  run  back  across  the  hall  and  come  into  the 
kitchen,  and  was  standing  near  Wieten,  who  was  about  to  wash 
up.  He  had  caught  hold  of  her  apron  as  little  children  are 
wont  to  do,  till  at  last  she  said,  "  Laddie,  what  are  you  think- 
ing about?  Run  away  from  here."  But  he  looked  at  her  in 
such  a  way  that  she  said  no  more,  but  stroked  his  fair  hair  and 
said,  "  Yes,  it's  a  good  thing,  laddie,  that  your  mother's  no 
longer  alive." 

She  said  this  or  something  like  it  every  time  anything  un- 
usual happened  in  the  house.  He  didn't  quite  understand  it, 
but  he  felt  that  his  mother  was  opposed  to  the  spirit  that  pre- 
vailed in  the  house,  and  although  it  gave  no  distinct  picture  of 
his  mother,   and   he   himself  was  but  scantily   endowed   with 


88  JORNUHL 

imagination,  it  distinctly  seemed  to  him  as  though  his  mother 
passed  through  the  house  with  dead  face  full  of  grief. 

He  pictured  her  to  himself  hig  and  tall,  while  she  was  in 
reality  short  and  rather  stout,  just  as  Elsbe  was  later  on. 

This  evening  when  his  father  returned  to  the  Uhl,  earlier 
than  usual  but  also  more  tipsy,  Jiirgen  met  him  in  the  hall  in 
his  shirt-sleeves,  with  a  hay- fork  in  his  hand,  —  he  had  just  come 
from  the  stables,  —  and  said,  in  a  faltering  voice,  "  Father,  if 
we  have  so  many  debts,  I  suppose  we'll  soon  have  to  sell  the 
farm,"  and  burst  out  crying.  But  his  father  struck  him  and 
drove  him  away.  He  ran  into  the  servants'  bedroom,  and  slept 
there  with  Fiete  Cray. 

From  this  day  forward  he  went  away  by  himself  whenever 
he  heard  his  father's  careless  laugh.  And  when  he  didn't 
know  where  else  to  go  to,  he  would  creep  into  the  barns  and 
into  the  gardens  which  lay  near  the  big  paddock ;  and  they  found 
him  sometimes  poring  over  his  English  book  or  the  school  read- 
ing-book, leaning  up  against  some  corner,  or  sitting  on  a  tree  or 
a  beam.  He  persuaded  Wieten  to  let  him  continue  to  sleep  in 
Fiete  Cray's  room,  which  looked  out  on  the  apple-orchard. 

In  that  room  he  dwelt  for  the  next  eleven  years,  that  is  to 
say,  till  his  marriage,  not  counting  the  two  years  which  he 
served  as  a  soldier,  and  the  year  that  he  was  in  the  field  fighting 
against  the  French. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

Near  the  foals'  stall,  not  far  from  the  stable  door,  there  stood 
a  big  old-fashioned  chest  that  was  now  in  use  as  a  chaff-bin. 
It  was  made  of  oak,  and  the  front  was  ornamented  with  designs, 
carved  in  a  strangely  noble  and  simple  style,  representing  scenes 
from  the  life  of  the  Prodigal  Son.  On  the  left  the  youth,  richly 
clad  and  with  a  heavy  purse  in  his  hand,  is  in  the  act  of  taking 
leave  of  his  father,  who  stands  in  the  doorway;  on  the  right, 
he  is  returning  home  clad  in  rags  and  tatters.  Above  these 
scenes,  and  divided  into  two  parts  by  the  iron  lock-plate,  stood 
the  words,  "  The  blessing  of  the  Lord  maketh  rich  without 
labor."     And  below  them,  "  Klawes  Uhl:    1624." 

Three  hundred  years  ago,  this  chest  had  been  the  proudest 
and  most  highly  prized  piece  of  furniture  in  Klawes  Uhl's 
household.  But  times  had  grown  better  and  taste  worse.  It 
had  had  so  many  coats  of  paint,  one  on  top  of  the  other,  that 
the  delicate  finish  and  expression  of  the  figures  had  gradually 
become  blurred  and  lost.  At  last  it  had  fallen  completely  into 
disrepute,  and  had  been  turned  into  a  feed-box.  In  this  humble 
capacity  it  was  never  repainted,  and,  little  by  little,  the  thick 
layer  of  color  had  come  off  till  the  solid  wood  became  visible 
again.     Nobody,  however,  had  any  idea  of  its  worth. 

If  only  this  old  chest  had  been  able  to  speak!  It  must  have 
had  a  heart,  for  it  had  lived  so  long  among  men  and  had  seen 
so  much  of  the  world.  But,  alas!  it  had  no  mouth!  It  was  on 
this  box  that  the  Wcntorf  children  used  to  sit,  forging  mighty 
plans  for  their  future  careers,  during  the  two  years  Fiete  Cray 
spent  in  service  at  the  Uhl  after  his  confirmation.  Their  voices 
and  laughter  rang  through  the  stables  clear  as  the  strokes  of  the 
smith's  hammer  on  the  anvil. 

"  Fietc,  come  here,"  cried  Elsbe,  "  here's  Jorn  with  the  sup- 
per." Jorn  laid  his  book  on  the  chest,  and,  after  putting  the 
pile  of  bread  beside  it,  sat  down  himself.     Elsbe  was  perched 

89 


90  JORNUHL 

up  there  already,  dangling  her  feet  impatiently.  Fiete  put  his 
stable-bucket  away  and  came  with  a  bound  and  seated  himself 
beside  them. 

"All  right!"  he  said,  using  an  English  expression  that  he 
had  picked  up  somewhere. 

"  Well,  that's  all  settled,  then,"  said  Jorn.  "  If  I  leave  home 
now,  you're  to  stay  here  and  look  after  things  on  the  farm, 
else  I'd  have  to  give  up  all  idea  of  being  Provost." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Fiete  Cray,  in  deep,  masculine  tones,  and 
with  the  greatest  deliberation ;  "  it  has  been  a  hard  job  for  me 
to  make  up  my  mind,  but  I'll  promise  to  do  it.  I'll  stay.  When 
I  was  young,  why,  I  dare  say  I  had  all  sorts  of  schemes  in  my 
head,  and  was  particularly  keen  on  California,  for  instance;  but 
we  get  wiser  as  we  grow  older.     So  I'm  going  to  stay  here." 

"  Yes,  you'll  have  to  stay  on  here  as  stableman  for  a  year 
or  so,"  said  Jorn,  "  and  by  that  time  your  father  will  be  getting 
pretty  old.  Then  you'll  go  and  live  at  home  and  choose  a  wife 
for  yourself,  and  come  over  here  every  day  to  work,  and  manage 
the  whole  estate  for  us.  It  won't  do  for  you  to  go  about  selling 
brushes  and  brooms  as  your  father  does.  You  must  just  give 
up  your  whole  time  to  the  farm  and  only  work  for  us.  Have 
you  made  up  your  mind  about  a  wife  yet  ?  " 

"Oh,  there's  no  hurry  about  that!  There's  w^omen-folk 
enough  in  the  world." 

They  munched  their  bread  in  silence  for  awhile,  drinking  the 
fresh  buttermilk  by  turns  out  of  the  big  brown  dish  that  stood 
between  them. 

"  It's  not  so  sure  yet,  Jorn,  whether  they'll  accept  you  at  the 
school ;  you  have  to  know  such  a  lot  before  they'll  take  you," 
said  Elsbe. 

"Oh!  I'll  manage  that  all  right,"  said  Jorn,  with  a  de- 
termined look.  "  I  can't  tell  you  how  I'm  looking  forward 
to  it.  I  don't  want  to  be  a  farmer  at  any  price.  But  I 
wouldn't  mind  working  at  books  forever  and  ever.  There's 
only  the  one  great  drawback,  the  thought  that  things  may  not 
be  going  right  here,  and  that's  why  Fiete  must  stay." 

Fiete  wiped  his  mouth,  and  set  the  empty  bowl  down  em- 
phatically on  the  chest. 

"You  can  go  and  be  made  Provost  without  the  least  fear; 
I'll  stay  here  and  look  after  the  whole  business  for  you.  Make 
your  mind  easy  on  that  score." 


JORNUHL  91 

Jorn  took  up  his  books  and  walked  away  into  the  garden, 
deep  in  thouglit. 

"  Now  we're  by  ourselves,  Fiete,"  said  Elsbe,  "  and  what  do 
you  think!  I've  seen  Harro  Heinsen.  He's  still  in  the  third 
class.  He  hasn't  been  put  up,  so  he  says  he  won't  go  to  school 
any  more.  We  walked  a  bit  of  the  way  together,  and  you  can't 
think  what  a  lot  of  things  he  told  me.  He  knows  a  thing  or 
two,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  Don't  you  have  too  much  to  do  wMth  him,"  said  Fiete,  "  you 
know  how  things  stand  between  you  and  me?    Don't  you?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course  1  do." 

"  Don't  you  believe  it'll  ever  come  to  anything,  then.  See, 
Jorn  will  be  Provost,  and  will  be  out  of  our  way.  Alick's 
soon  going  to  get  married,  and  then  he'll  live  on  some  other 
farm.  Hinnerk  is  a  soldier  already,  and  next  year  Hans  will 
have  to  put  on  the  red  coat  and  join  his  regiment,  and  every- 
body says,  besides,  that  when  the  old  king  dies,  there'll  be  war. 
Then  it's  safe  to  reckon  that  one  of  them  will  be  shot,  and 
the  other  will  be  sure  to  start  farming  somewhere  else.  And 
just  tell  me  who'll  be  left  then,  little  Whitey?  Who'll  be  left, 
eh?  Only  you,  not  another  soul.  By  that  time  I'll  be  overseer 
on  the  Uhl,  and  j'our  father  w^ill  be  old,  and  he'll  say  to  us: 
'  Children,  you  must  marry,  so  that  1  may  have  peace  in  my 
old  age.'     That's  my  plan,  and  it'll  come  true,  you'll  see." 

She  nodded  absent-mindedly,  and  began  talking  about  Harro 
Heinsen  again. 

"  His  sister's  engaged  already,  and  she's  only  eighteen.  When 
I'm  six  years  older,  I  want  to  be  engaged,  too;  if  you're  not 
ready  to  marry  me  by  then,  I'll  take  some  one  else." 

"  Don't  go  listening  to  all  the  yarns  that  Harro  Heinsen 
likes  to  tell  you,  Elsbe;    he's  a  regular  blockhead." 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  stretching  her  limbs  and  yawning,  "  I'd 
rather  you'd  talk  to  me  about  something  interesting.  Harro 
Heinsen  always  has  such  heaps  of  things  to  tell  me,  all  about 
grown-up  people  and  the  things  they  do.  Just  fancy,  Lischcn 
Wiederhold  danced  at  the  ball  on  market-day,  and  she's  not 
sixteen  yet.  When  I'm  old  enough,  I  really  believe  I'll  dance 
myself  to  death.  I'll  dance  till  I  drop.  When  we're  husband 
and  wife,  Fiete,  you'll  have  to  take  me  to  every  single  dance." 

"Of  course  I  will,"  said  Fiete  Cray;  "you  needn't  trouble 
yourself  on  that  head." 


92  JORN     UHL 

"  First  we'll  put  the  children  to  bed,  and  then  we'll  go  it.'* 

"My  word!     Won't  we?" 

She  laughed  and  drummed  \v  ith  her  feet  against  the  old  chest, 
rocking  herself  to  and  fro.  "  What  a  life  of  it  we'll  have," 
she  said. 

"  Now,  run  away,  little  Whitey,"  said  Fiete  Cray.  "  I've 
got  a  lot  to  do  yet.  I'll  have  to  look  smart  about  my  work 
so  that  I  may  soon  be  head-man  here." 

As  soon  as  Elsbe  had  disappeared,  he  went,  whistling  softly 
to  himself,  into  the  chaff-room,  which  was  lit  by  means  of  a 
small,  high  window.  There  he  sought  out  a  comfortable  seat 
and  thought  to  himself,  "  Little  Elsbe  shall  be  my  wife,  as  true 
as  Fni  sitting  here,  but  catch  me  staying  here  a  single  day  after 
I've  got  her.  I'll  either  start  a  big  business  or  I'll  take  her 
and  her  money  with  me  and  go  out  into  the  world  —  to  Ham- 
burg, perhaps  —  and  I'll  buy  an  hotel  or  something  like  that  for 
myself.  When  one's  got  money,  everything's  possible.  The 
silly  little  lass!  But  she's  not  as  bad  as  Jorn,  for  all  that.  A 
pretty  notion,  for  me  to  have  to  work  all  the  days  of  my  life 
on  the  Uhl,  here,  as  his  man!  " 

He  shook  his  head,  got  up  and  took  down  from  the  window- 
sill  a  thick,  well-thumbed  volume  that  some  farm-hand  or  other 
had  left  behind,  years  ago,  in  the  servants'  room.  He  sat  down 
again,  in  the  soft  chaff,  and  read  what  the  book  had  to  tell  about 
storms  and  floods,  and  the  ancient  Germans,  and  the  Black 
Death,  and  wars,  and  all  sorts  of  supernatural  occurrences.  For 
it  was  a  thorough-going,  honest  old  book,  and  d^alt  with  a 
multitude  of  questions.  The  cover  had  got  lost,  but  the  title- 
page  still  remained,  and  on  it  was  written,  "  The  Gnomon,  by 
Klaus  Harms." 

The  animals  in  the  stables  were  now  beginning  to  grow 
restive,  and  the  calves  were  crying  out  for  food.  .  .  .  Fiete 
Cray  had  laid  his  book  aside,  and  was  sitting,  crouched  in  a 
heap,  running  his  fingers  tiirough  his  light,  red  hair,  turning 
over  weighty  thoughts  in  his  mind,  muttering  to  himself  as 
he  racked  his  brains  to  know  how  he  might  carry  out  one  or 
another  of  his  many  deep-laid  schemes. 

Klaus  Uhl  spent  most  of  his  time  at  the  inn,  or  at  the  houses 
of  his  boon  companions,  cracking  jokes,  talking  politics,  and 
playing  cards. 


JORN     UHL  93 

The  few  hours  he  spent  at  home  were  passed  in  jesting,  or 
In  roaminf^  restlessly  over  the  homestead,  and  in  a  constant 
hankering  after  the  scene  of  his  carousings.  He  had  taken 
no  interest  whatever  in  the  education  of  his  youngest  son,  and 
had  no  idea  how  he  would  fare  in  his  entrance  examination. 
Jle  shunned  the  mere  thought  of  it.  For  he  dreaded  nothing 
more  than  the  fear  of  putting  himself  into  a  ridiculous  position. 
lie  lived  in  such  an  atmosphere  of  self-deception  that  it  gave 
him  a  shock  when  Jorn,  one  day,  said  to  him:  "  Dominie  Peters 
got  a  letter  to-day  to  say  that  I'm  to  be  examined  the  day  after 
to-morrow.  But  the  school  doesn't  begin  till  after  Easter.  Can 
1  go  with  you  to  town  the  day  after  to-morrow,  then  ?  "  Klaus 
Uhl  looked  very  doulitful  for  a  minute,  but  suddenly  his  face 
brightened  up.  "  Do  you  know,  youngster,  what  I've  been 
thinking?  I've  been  thinking  that  Thiess  Thiessen  might  drive 
you  in.     He'll  enjoy  it  immensely." 

Two  days  afterward  Thiess  Thiessen  drove  up  to  the  farm 
in  his  lumbering  old  cart.  It  had  two  seats  in  it.  "  Jorn,"  he 
said,  "  you  must  sit  on  the  back  seat,  so  that  you  can  meditate 
a  bit  on  the  way.  Have  you  got  all  your  book-learning  and 
that  in  shipshape  order?  We'll  drive  around  by  the  sand-road, 
so  that  none  of  it  may  get  spilt.  I  always  go  that  way  myself 
when  I'm  carting  dry  turf  to  market." 

"  Now's  no  time  for  talking  nonsense,"  said  Wieten,  curtly; 
"  when  a  man's  fifty,  it's  high  time  he  had  some  sense  in  his 
head." 

Thiess  said  no  more,  but  looked  at  his  horses,  whilst  Jorn 
climbed  up  behind  him  on  to  the  back  seat  and  laid  his  books 
on  one  side  of  him,  and  on  the  other  two  pots  of  butter  that 
Wieten  handed  up  to  him. 

"  It's  a  burning  shame,"  said  Wieten,  "  that  his  father  him- 
self doesn't  go  with  the  boy.     I   know  well  enough  why  he 
d>.  >> 
oesn  t. 

Jorn  knew,  too.  He  keenly  felt  the  difficulty  and  serious- 
ness of  his  whole  position  and  the  mortidcation  it  entailed.  It 
seemed  natural  enough  to  him  that  his  father,  this  grand  man 
with  his  gay  manners,  should  not  wish  to  associate  himself 
with  him.  Later  on  in  life,  when  he  was  a  man,  he  thought 
differently  about  his  father's  absence.  Even  when  he  was  a 
man  of  forty,  he  blushed  for  his  father,  when  he  remembered 
this  hour  and  its  disgrace. 


94  JoRNUHL 

He  sat,  silent  and  dejected,  just  behind  Thiess.  Trina  Kiihl, 
Fiete  Cray's  sweetheart,  was  standing  at  the  kitchen  door,  and 
the  two  dairymaids  canie  out  and  laughed  at  Thiess.  Looking 
at  Jorn,  they  said  to  each  other,  "  He'll  get  on  right  enough." 
They  all  liked  him  in  spite  of  his  stii¥,  taciturn  way,  admiring 
his  love  for  books,  and  considering  him  something  of  a  genius. 
Fiete  Cray  was  standing  at  the  stable  door,  brandishing  a  hay- 
fork in  the  air,  and  shouting,  "Good  luck  to  you!"  Elsbe 
stood  at  the  cart,  laughing  at  the  tall  dark  brown  top-hat  that 
Thiess  was  wearing,  and  saying:  "Thiess,  you  do  everything 
wrong.     People  only  wear  a  hat  like  that  to  funerals." 

"  And  in  the  Provost's  honor,  too,  child.  I  tell  you,  in  this 
hat  I  am  the  owner  of  the  old  original  form  of  all  the  funeral 
hats  in  all  the  shops  and  cupboards  between  the  Elbe  and  Kings- 
mead.  Where  other  hats  are  round,  this  one's  real  circular, 
and  where  others  are  angular,  this  one's  right-angular.  My 
head's  a  trifle  oblong,  that's  why  I  wear  a  piece  of  elastic  under 
my  chin." 

"  Now  just  stop,"  said  Elsbe,  "  you're  beginning  with  your 
bragging  again." 

"  Yes,"  said  Wieten,  "  you'd  better  be  off,  so  that  the  hubbub 
may  stop,  and  let  us  get  back  to  work  again.  .  .  .  Good  luck 
to  you,  Jorn,  laddie!  I  have  a  feeling  as  though  to-day  has 
something  good  in  store  for  you.  .  .  .  But  I  don't  know  .  .  . 
there's  something  in  it,  though." 

Just  below  Ringelshorn,  as  they  were  turning  up  to  the  soft 
sand-road,  they  saw  Lisbeth  Junker  making  a  short  cut  across 
the  heath  from  Ringelshorn,  and  waving  to  them.  "  Thiess, 
stop!   stop  for  a  moment,  Thiess!  " 

"What's  the  matter,  then,  little  Princess?" 

"  I  only  w^anted  to  give  Jorn  something,"  she  said.  "  It's 
nothing  to  do  with  you."  She  sprang  daintily  up  on  the  step 
and  pressed  a  big  rosy  apple  into  the  pensive  Jorn's  hand. 
"  That's  the  last  apple  in  the  whole  house,"  she  said ;  "  I  always 
get  it,  but  this  time  you  shall  have  it."  She  sprang  quickly 
down  again,  and  stepped  away  into  the  heath  on  the  left, 
raising  her  hand  threateningly,  with  a  somewhat  confused 
though  roguish  look.  "  Now,  just  wait  till  you're  Provost, 
Jorn.  .  .  .  Oha!  .  .  .  Good-by,  Thiess!  " 

They  drove  in  a  slow  trot  through  the  deep  sand  of  the  heath. 
It  was  by  no  means  a  triumphal  procession.    In  front  sat  Thiess 


JORN     UHL  9? 

gazing  at  the  backs  of  the  horses.  In  his  shrewd  little  eyes, 
and  in  his  little  thin  face  beneath  the  tall,  stiff  undertaker's 
hat,  beamed  and  smiled  tlie  sort  of  wisdom  which  says  to  sor- 
row, "  I  will  softly  laugh  at  you,"  and  to  joy,  "  I  will  softly 
weep  over  you ;  "  the  sort  of  wisdom  which  confesses  that  the 
lite  of  man  is  a  mj stery  not  to  be  unravelled.  "  Stoop  your 
head  to  the  storm,  little  bird,  but  have  no  fear,  for  everything 
is  in  the  hand  of  a  great  God."  And  behind  sat  Jorn  in  all 
the  freshness  of  his  youth,  and  in  the  midst  of  his  riches,  pots 
of  butter  to  the  left,  and  knowledge  to  the  right,  and  looked 
as  serious  and  meditative  as  though  he  were  going  to  have  this 
dark  brown  undertaker's  hat  in  front  of  him  till  the  very  end 
of  his  life.  Gradually  the  old  church  ahead  of  them  got  higher 
and  higher,  then  came  the  wooden  bridge  over  the  Winder- 
bergerau,  and  then  came  the  multitudes  of  houses,  ever  so  thick, 
with  their  pointed,  bright  red  tile  roofs. 

The  inn  where  the  turf-farmers,  with  their  home-made  blue 
and  gray  coats,  always  put  up,  Thiess  found  closed  for  repairs; 
so  they  had  to  drive  into  the  lower  town,  and  came  to  an  inn 
which  only  the  wealthy  marsh  farmers  frequented.  The  two 
of  them  had  to  wait  a  couple  of  weary  hours  in  the  big  empty 
barroom.  Jorn  stood  and  looked  out  of  the  window;  Thiess 
walked  up  and  down,  sipping  now  and  then  at  a  penn'orth  of 
schnapps  that  he  had  ordered,  and  twice  filled  his  pipe  out  of 
the  tobacco-box  which,  according  to  an  old  custom,  stood  upon 
the  counter  for  the  free  use  of  the  guests.  Then  they  went 
through  the  little,  silent,  winding  streets  to  the  High  School. 

It  was  Thiess's  custom,  out  of  sheer  modesty,  never  to  go 
into  a  house  by  the  chief  entrance,  but  always  to  find  out  some 
side  door,  that  generally  brought  him  into  a  kitchen  or  a  stable. 
So  on  this  occasion,  too,  he  made  a  shy  detour  past  the  big 
school  entrance  with  its  staircase,  and  found  a  little  side  door, 
which  fortunately  brought  him  into  the  basement  where  the 
school-attendant  had  his  rooms.  This  man  was  a  cobbler,  and 
was  sitting  at  his  bench,  and  in  front  of  him  stood  his  morning 
coffee,  and  the  morning  sun  touched  up  his  iron  tools  with  its 
glimmer,  and  made  the  glass  balls  sparkle  that  hung  from  the 
ceiling,  and  gleamed  on  every  grain  of  the  fresh  white  sand 
with  which  the  white  boards  of  the  little  room  were  strewn. 
A  pleasant  fresh  smell  of  pitch,  leather,  and  coffee  filled  the 
room  and  rejoiced  Thiess  Thiessen's  lonely  soul. 


96  JORNUHL 

"  I  have  brought  a  recruit  for  you,"  he  said,  in  a  friendly  tone. 
"  Dominie  Peters,  master  of  the  art  of  reckoning  at  Wentorf, 
has  coached  him.  The  English  language  he  has  already  mas- 
tered, as  well  as  his  native  German.  Everything  else  that's 
necessary,  the  other  foreign  lingoes  and  style  in  general,  he 
wants  to  learn  here:   for  he's  got  the  provostship  in  his  eye." 

The  cobbler  looked  at  Thiess  over  his  spectacles,  and  said: 
"  I'll  take  him  up  to  the  rector  at  once;  they've  already  begun." 

"  Well,  Jorn,  laddie ;  I  wish  you  good  luck.  You  know  what 
good  things  dumplings  and  pig's-head  are,  especially  when  you 
have  a  good  serviceable  suit  for  summer  and  winter,  and  a  solid 
rain-proof  roof  over  your  head.  Those  are  all  good  things,  Jorn, 
and  they'll  all  be  yours  as  long  as  you  live,  if  you  become 
Provost." 

The  two  went  up-stairs,  and  Thiess  shifted  his  chair  into  the 
sunlight,  laid  his  hat  carefully  on  his  knees,  and  waited,  hoping 
to  have  a  pleasant  crack  with  the  cobbler.  The  latter  soon 
returned,   put  his  coffee  aside,  and  began  to  work. 

"  Just  tell  me,  Meister,  how  long  does  it  take  for  a  lad  to 
get  through  the  school  course,  till  he's  finished?  " 

"  Hm!  ...  It  all  depends  whether  he's  got  to  begin  low 
down  in  the  school,  or  whether  he  can  skip  a  few  classes." 

"I  think,"  said  Thiess,  "he'll  skip  a  few;  for  in  the  first 
place  he's  had  two  years'  teaching  with  Dominie  Peters,  and 
in  the  second  place  he's  the  son  of  Klaus  Uhl." 

"Klaus  Uhl  of  Wentorf?" 

"  Yes,  him.  The  teachers  will  guess  that  he  won't  be  par- 
ticular as  to  a  few  glasses  of  grog  and  a  few  flitches  of  bacon. 
And  I  myself,  though  it's  neither  here  nor  there,  won't  mind 
bringing  a  load  of  good  black  turf  in,  now  and  again.  My 
name's  Thiess  Thiessen.  People  generally  call  me  '  Thiess 
behind  the  Haze.'     What's  your  idea  on  the  matter?  " 

"  Well,  you  see,  Thiessen,  the  thing's  this  way.  Just  lately 
when  my  cousin,  the  youngest  son  of  my  mother's  brother  .  .  . 
Her  maiden  name  was  Ehnerwolsen,  she's  from  Wentorf,  you 
know,  one  of  the  Cravs  of  Suderdonn." 

"I  know,"  said  Thiess,  "old  Heinrich  Cray!  His  second 
wife  was  deaf  of  both  ears  and  heard  nothing  that  she  didn't 
want  to." 

"  Right,  that's  the  one  I  mean.  My  cousin  \ised  to  be  a 
CX)bbler,   but   now  he's   a  coachman.      Well,    there   were   four 


JORNUHL  97 

cobblers  at  the  christening.     And  how  many  of  them,  do  you 
think,  have  stuck  to  the  shoemaking?  " 

"Well?" 

"  Why,  not  one  of  the  four.  They  gave  it  up,  and  took 
another  trade,  and  every  one  o'  them's  doing  well.  .  .  .  Now 
that's  just  the  way  with  the  High  School.  Of  every  five  that 
enter,  not  more  than  one  of  them  ever  brings  it  to  anything." 

"  Jorn  Uhl  will  go  througli  with  it,"  said  Thiess;  "he  sits 
all  day  up  to  his  eyes  in  books,  and  neither  hears  nor  sees  a 
thing.  He's  got  it  into  his  head  that  he's  going  to  be  Provost." 
—  There  stood  Jorn  in  the  doorway,  his  long,  narrow  face  a 
little  pale  and  his  fair  hair  standing  straight  up,  as  if  every 
individual  hair  were  anxious  to  see  how  astonished  Thiess  would 
look. 

"  It's  all  one  to  me,  Thiess,  w^hether  I'm  Provost  or  not. 
But  I  mean  to  learn  something!" 

In  his  amazement  Thiess  was  holding  his  hat  gripped  with 
both  hands,  as  though  expecting  some  one  to  put  a  penny  in  it. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  they  can't  teach  you  anything  more 
here?"  he  cried,  "Are  you  going  straight  away  for  the 
provostship?  " 

Jorn  shook  his  head,  so  that  the  sunlight  glittered  in  his  hair. 
"  It's  all  been  wrong.  I  ought  to  have  been  learning  Latin 
all  this  time.  .  .  .   How  old  are  the  boys  in  the  lowest  class?" 

"  You'll  be  the  biggest  of  them,"  said  the  cobbler. 

"  Do  you  see,  Thiess?  The  lankiest  boy  in  the  lowest  class! 
That's  what  comes  of  it!  He's  been  driving  into  town  every 
day,  but  he's  never  once  asked  whether  it  was  Latin  or  English 
I  needed.  But  I'll  be  Provost  in  spite  of  it.  I've  told  them 
up-stairs  that  I'm  coming  back  after  Easter." 

"Jorn,  laddie,  what  will  Lisbcth  say,  and  Fiete  Cray,  too?" 

"  It's  all  the  same!  It's  all  the  same  to  me!  I'm  coming 
back  after  Easter,  when  school  opens.  I'll  begin  at  the  bottom 
and  sit  among  the  youngsters.     Let's  be  ofif,  Thiess." 

Thiess  stood  up  slowly,  shaking  his  head. 

"  Jorn,  laddie,  it's  a  bad  business;  Elsbe  will  be  saying  again 
that  everything  I  touch  goes  wrong,  and  your  brothers  will 
grin  at  us.  But  what's  the  good  of  talking?  You  can't  make 
English  into  Latin.     So  come.  Jorn." 

They  went  down  the  street  and  entered  the  inn  again.  Thiess 
emptied  the  glass  of  schnapps  that  was  still  standing  on  the 


98  JORNUHL 

counter.  Then  he  filled  his  pipe,  for  the  third  time,  from  the 
tobacco-jar,  put  his  tall  hat  on  with  great  deliberation,  and 
asked  how  much  he  owed.  But  the  landlord,  who  was  half- 
angry,  half-amused  at  the  small  quantity  of  liquor  and  the  large 
quantity  of  tobacco  he  had  consumed,  said,  "  You've  smoked 
yourself  free,  Thiessen,"  and  refused  to  accept  any  payment. 
So  they  drove  back  over  the  heath,  scatheless,  at  least,  as  far  as 
their  pockets  were  concerned.  But  this  time  they  sat  close 
together,  side  by  side.  They  had  little  to  say,  except  that  Jorn 
would  now  and  then  remark,  "  It's  all  the  same,  I'll  do  it  yet." 

As  they  turned  around  the  bend  out  of  the  alder-lane  and 
drove  up  to  the  farm,  Elsbe  came  out  of  the  kitchen  door,  her 
eyes  all  red  with  crying,  weeping  so  violently  that  her  breast 
and  shoulders  heaved  with  her  sobs. 

When  Thiess  Thiessen  saw  any  one  in  misfortune  he  became 
excited,  his  eyes  opened  wide,  and  his  arms  and  legs  began  to 
work.  Least  of  all  could  he  bear  to  see  Elsbe  shedding  tears. 
"  Come,  tell  me,  little  Whitey,  what's  the  matter?  Who's  been 
ill-treating  you?"     But  she  couldn't  speak  for  sobbing. 

Presently  Wieten  came  around  the  corner  and  said :  "  Just 
think,  her  father  happened  to  go  into  the  stable,  and  there  he 
sees  Elsbe  and  Fiete  Cray,  sitting  arm  in  arm,  on  the  feed-box, 
and  the  rascal  was  telling  her  how  he'd  marry  her,  and  how 
he'd  then  become  master  at  the  Uhl.  And  while  the  lad  was 
in  the  middle  of  his  speech,  Klaus  Uhl  caught  him  by  the  collar 
and  gave  him  a  thrashing  and  then  flung  him  out  of  the  stable 
door.  Just  at  present  he's  sitting  in  his  bedroom,  gathering  his 
odds  and  ends  together,  and  Trina,  the  maid,  is  howling." 

Jorn  stared  down  at  Wieten  with  open  mouth. 

"  Will  Fiete  have  to  leave  the  farm  now?  " 

"  Of  course  he  will,"  said  Wieten,  "  and  that  at  once,  the 
impertinent  young  rascal.  Where  he  gets  hold  of  such  notions, 
I  can't  think." 

Just  at  this  moment  Fiete  Cray  came  out  of  the  stable  door, 
his  Sunday  suit  wrapped  in  a  check  cloth  beneath  his  arm.  "  I 
got  them  from  you,"  he  said,  bellowing;  all  manliness  had 
forsaken  him.  "  And  now  I  must  be  turned  off  like  this, 
with  hardly  a  stitch  on  my  back,  and  go  to  Hamburg,  and  I 
don't  even  know  which  direction  the  town  lies  in.  You've 
always  been  telling  me  your  stories  about  '  Hans  in  Luck  '  and 
about  chests  of  gold  and  the  brushmaker  who  became  king." 


JORNUHL  99 

Thiess  had  got  out  of  the  cart.  "  Come  down,  Jorn,  what 
are  you  sitting  up  there  for?  Come,  Elsbe,  come;  cheer  up, 
little  lass." 

But  she  tore  herself  away  and  ran  down  the  road  after  Fiete 
Cray,  and  caught  hold  of  his  arm,  crying,  "  He  sha'n't  go  away! 
I'm  so  fond  of  him!     He  sha'n't  go  away!  " 

But  Fiete  Cray  pushed  her  away  from  him,  and  roared  and 
whined.  "  \'ou'll  see,  all  of  you.  .  .  .  I'll  come  back  some  day, 
and  live  on  the  Uhl  in  spite  of  you,  I  will!  I'll  start  a  big 
brush-binding  factory  there,  and  have  it  worked  by  steam!  "  The 
little  bundle  had  slipped  from  his  arm.  He  stooped  and  picked 
it  up,  and  then  went  across  the  road  into  his  father's  house. 

Wieten  Klook  was  dumfounded  at  the  youth's  words.  She 
clasped  her  hands  together,  turned  around  and  went  into  her 
room  and  sat  down  to  work,  full  of  rage  and  shame.  In  many 
a  twilight  hour  she  had  told  these  stories  to  wondering  children, 
with  hushed  voice,  as  the  wisdom  of  a  world  which,  though 
hid  from  others,  had  been  to  her  partially  revealed.  She  had 
thought  that  these  olden  things  were  worthy  of  being  repeated 
in  order  to  fill  the  soul  with  fear  and  horror,  love  and  joy.  But 
this  lad  had  made  use  of  them  as  spade  and  cleaver-staff,  and 
shouted  them  out  in  broad  daylight  across  the  farmyard.  She 
let  her  sewing  sink  into  her  lap,  and  gazed  vacantly  at  the  table ; 
and  while  she  sat  there  so  motionless,  an  invisible  hand  laid  one 
picture  after  another  before  her,  and  the  pictures  spoke  of  travail 
and  misery  and  death  among  the  people  she  had  once  known; 
and  each  picture  was  sadder  than  the  last.  And  then  she  saw 
Fiete  Cray  going  out  into  the  world,  without  guidance  and  full 
of  these  motley  thoughts.  Then  she  looked  around  her  in  the 
room,  and  when  she  saw  that  she  was  alone,  she  hid  her  face  in 
her  hands  and  quietly  wept. 

When  it  was  dark,  Fiete  Cray  came  out  of  his  father's  house, 
his  bundle  with  his  work-day  clothes  under  his  arm.  His 
mother  sat  behind  the  stove  crying.  "  Fiete,"  she  called  after 
him,  "  you're  only  seventeen.  It's  too  far  for  you  to  go." 
She  thought  of  the  other  Crays  who  had  flown  away  so  far  that 
they  had  never  come  home  again,  to  America,  and  God  alone 
knows  what  lands  besides.  She  had  been  among  the  last  pupils 
of  old  Stiibel,  who  had  had  a  certain  reputation  as  a  trousers- 


loo  JORN     UHL 

cutter,  but  not  as  a  teacher.  And  then  she  had  alwa)S  had  a 
hard,  Stubborn   head. 

"  Not  if  it  were  as  far  as  the  end  of  the  world,"  answered 
Fiete  Cray.  "  He  struck  me  with  his  dog-whip,  the  miserable 
hound."  He  began  to  weep  aloud  again  with  rage,  clenching 
his  fist  at  the  big  old  house,  and  shaking  it  at  the  high  barns 
whose  mighty  straw  roofs  lay  so  dark  and  silent  in  the  midst  of 
the  high  poplars  and  ash-trees. 

If  Klaus  Uhl  had  witnessed  this  weeping  and  rage,  he  would 
have  burst  into  loud  and  hearty  laughter,  and  would  have 
pranked  the  story  out  a  bit  and  told  it  with  his  own  additions 
in  all  the  inns  of  the  neighborhood. 

Jasper  Cray  had  come  with  his  son  as  far  as  the  door.  "  It 
doesn't  matter  a  straw  where  you  go  to,"  said  he,  "  so  you  can't 
lose  your  way,  and  that's  something  in  itself,  —  not  to  be  able 
to  lose  one's  way,  —  neither  have  you  much  of  a  bundle  to 
carry ;  if  need  be  you  can  cut  straight  across  country,  and  that's 
another  advantage.  Look  to  it  that  you  turn  out  a  good  man; 
if  you  go  to  the  bad,  don't  show  your  face  here  again ;  but 
when  you've  done  something  for  yourself  in  the  world,  then 
come  back  and  see  how  we're  getting  on." 

He  was  already  on  his  way,  and  almost  hidden  in  the  dusk. 
"  You  can  depend  upon  it,  father,  I'll  come  back  again." 

As  he  was  turning  around  again  to  proceed  on  his  journey, 
he  saw  Jorn  Uhl  standing  in  front  of  him. 

"  Thiess  is  waiting  with  his  cart  up  there  by  the  pines,"  Jorn 
said,  in  a  low  voice;  "  to-night  you  are  to  sleep  at  his  place 
at  the  Haze." 

They  walked  together  along  the  foot  of  the  hills,  till  they 
came  to  a  little  gully  on  the  left,  covered  with  heath  and 
bracken.  It  led  up  steep  between  the  two  hills,  and  was  broad 
and  deep  enough  for  a  good-sized  farmer's  house  to  have  stood 
in  it.  Toward  the  top  it  grew  shallower  and  narrower,  till  it 
at  last  ran  out  on  the  Heidefeld. 

Fiete  Cray  went  on  ahead,  walking  in  silence,  except  for  a 
sob  from  time  to  time  that  shook  his  whole  body. 

Half-way  up  the  gully,  hid  between  low  oak-scrub,  and  not 
far  from  the  narrow  track  which  led  to  the  top,  lay  a  circular 
pond,  not  much  bigger  than  a  cart-wheel,  and  filled  to  the  brim 
with  fresh,  clear  water.  That  was  the  Goldsoot.  A  spring 
from  somewhere  in  the  hills  above  kept  it  always  full,  and  the 


JC)RN     UHL  loi 

overflow  waters  disappeared  with  much  soft  whispering  and 
nuirniuriiiG;  into  tiie  undergrowth  below.  Two  or  three  stars 
that  stood  above  it  in  the  sky  lay  reflected  there,  and  two  or 
three  leafless  branches  that  hung  over  the  edge  were  mirrored 
in  it  like  sharp,  slanting  spears  defending  the  entrance  to  the 
waters.  A  wind  came  up  from  the  sea  and  passed  away  rustling 
through  thickets,  \\  here  the  ground  was  covered  with  last  year's 
crisp,  dry  leaves.  There  was  a  constant  murmur  as  of  soft 
voices  below  and  above  and  around  it  on  every  side. 

B'iete  stood  still,  gazing  meditatively  at  the  water.  "  I  should 
like  to  know,"  he  said,  his  voice  broken  with  an  involuntary  sob, 
"  what  the  bottom's  like,  and  what  sort  of  a  feel  it  has." 

Jorn  tried  to  comfort  him,  and  said,  by  way  of  faint  en- 
couragement: "Won't  you  go  and  try  the  Steinberg  by  the 
Haze,  that  you  were  always  telling  us  about?  You  said  there 
were  heaps  of  gold  there,  some  of  the  pieces  as  big  as  children's 
heads." 

Fiete  Cray  shook  his  head  emphatically;  for  these  children's 
heads  were  creations  of  his  own  fancy;  he  had  considerably 
widened  the  field  that  Wieten  had  so  diligently  labored  at  many 
an  evening  in  the  lamplight,  and  he  had  done  so  with  such 
intense  delight  in  his  inventions,  and  with  such  warmth  of 
imagination,  that  often  he  could  not  tell  how  much  of  the  story 
was  due  to  Wieten  and  how  much  to  his  own  fancy.  But  this 
night  there  was  a  sifting  asunder  of  truth  and  fiction,  and  the 
lumps  of  gold  as  big  as  children's  heads  were  classed  among  the 
fiction,  (joldsoot,  on  the  other  hand,  belonged  to  what  was  true. 

He  gazed  into  the  water  yet  awhile;  then  he  went  on  slowly 
up  the  hill.  At  the  top,  on  the  brink  of  the  Heidefeld,  he  said 
to  Jorn : 

"  Now,  go  back  home.     I  want  to  walk  on  alone." 

Then  Jorn  turned  around  and  went  away,  without  handshake 
or  good-by,  back  over  the  heath. 

Fiete  Cray,  however,  remained  standing  up  there  in  the  dry 
heather.  J(')rn  looked  around  after  awhile,  and  saw  him  stand- 
ing like  a  dark  post  against  the  horizon. 

Fiete  Cray  turned  slowly  around  and  went  down  into  the 
gully  again ;  laying  his  bundle  down  near  the  water,  and  draw- 
ing off  his  coat,  he  stretched  himself  full  length  in  the  grass,  and 
reached  as  deep  as  he  could  into  the  water.  In  this  wa\  he 
searched  around  the  margin,  but  found  nothing.     He  then  un- 


I02  JORN     UHL 

dressed  hastily,  and  when  he  was  stripped  caught  hold  of  some 
overhanging  branches,  and  let  himself  cautiously  into  the  cold 
water,  and  found  bottom.  It  reached  up  to  his  breast.  He 
stepped  guardedly  about,  but  felt  no  trace  of  anything  hard.  It 
was  all  soft  sand  and  decayed  leaves.  Then  he  dived  three  times, 
and  searched  along  the  edges,  but  there  was  nothing  there  but 
the  smooth  clayey  sides,  overgrown  with  water-weeds. 

Then  he  gave  it  up.  He  drew  himself  out  of  the  water  and 
remained  standing  awhile,  before  beginning  to  dress.  He  stood 
erect  and  motionless,  feeling  nothing  of  the  cutting  cold  that 
was  scourging  him  as  with  thin  icy  rods.  He  stood  looking  into 
the  water,  and  the  water  looked  back  at  him  with  a  calm,  sad 
eye,  as  though  it  sorrowfully  held  its  secret  fast. 

Gossamer  and  spider-webs  go  flying  all  over  the  land,  and 
thistledown  and  scent  of  flowers  are  carried  into  every  neighbor's 
garden.  And  at  times  a  shrewd  and  meditative  eye  may  chance 
to  see  Fate,  great  and  beautiful  and  terrible,  sitting  upon  the 
everlasting  stone,  with  head  on  hand  and  frowning  brow,  tracing 
in  the  sand  that  labyrinth  of  lines  and  confusion  of  paths  that 
we  mortals  have  then  to  tread.  Fiete  Cray  had  his  adventure 
that  April  night,  by  the  lonely  Goldsoot,  not  for  himself  alone. 

It  happened  about  this  time  that  there  was  a  certain  young 
girl  in  the  village,  a  farmer's  daughter.  She  was  tall  and  good- 
looking,  and  much  courted  by  the  young  folk  thereabouts, 
but  up  to  her  twentieth  year  she  had  refused  all  their  advances. 
Seldom  was  she  seen  at  a  dance ;  and  when  she  went,  it  some- 
times happened  that  she  would  leave  the  room,  scowling,  after 
the  first  dance,  put  her  horse  in  the  cart,  and  drive  home  alone 
through  the  darkness.  Among  the  younger  girls  she  had  no 
close  friends ;  she  had,  however,  this  winter,  attached  herself 
to  a  young,  newly  married  woman,  who  had  charmed  her  with 
her  fresh  and  simple  grace.  She  had  come  there  wnth  her 
husband,  a  stranger  like  herself,  and  purchased  a  house  in  the 
village,  and  was  now  expecting  the  birth  of  her  first  child. 
Sometimes  she  would  come  and  sit  with  the  young  wife  in  the 
quiet  hours  of  twilight ;  and  one  day  she  asked,  with  the  greatest 
delicacy,  how  her  friend  could  have  brought  herself  to  be  a 
man's  wife,  and  to  give  herself  so  entirely  up  to  him.  When 
the  other,  surprised  and  embarrassed  by  this  question,  could 
give  no  immediate  reply,  she  said,  with  tears,  that  she  had  in 


JORN     UHL  103 

her  heart  an  affection  for  some  one,  but  that  she  could  not 
conquer  her  disinch'nation  to  respond  to  his  love.  She  had,  she 
said,  an  invincible  reticence  in  this  matter;  being  a  farmer's 
daughter,  and  having  grown  up  in  the  country,  she  well  knew 
what  marriage  entailed.  The  joung  wife  comforted  her  with 
gentle,  hesitating  words,  and  tried  to  convince  her  that  love, 
when  it  is  real,  causes  everything  painful  to  be  forgotten.  But 
in  spite  of  this  conversation  no  change  took  place  in  her  de- 
meanor when  alone.  She  w^pt  and  bewailed  her  unhappy 
nature,  which  had  made  of  her  neither  a  nun  nor  a  real  woman, 
and  which  had  caused  her  lover,  and,  through  him,  herself,  to 
be  so  unhappy. 

After  some  time  had  elapsed,  it  happened  that  on  that  very 
April  evening  when  Fiete  Cray  left  the  Uhl,  a  ball  was  again 
being  given  in  the  town.  It  was  just  past  new  moon.  For 
several  days  she  had  been  low-spirited,  but  as  she  now  felt  her- 
self quite  well  and  fresh  again,  on  the  day  before  the  ball  she 
thought  she  would  take  advantage  of  this  happy,  almost  gay, 
frame  of  mind,  so  as  to  banish  her  disinclination.  She  therefore 
made  up  her  mind  to  drive  in  to  the  dance.  She  made  up  her 
mind  to  be  friendly  toward  all  who  were  there,  to  suppress  her 
aversion  to  dancing,  and  to  be  particularly  friendly  to  her  lover 
if  he  happened  to  dance  with  her. 

When  she  entered  the  room  she  at  once  saw  him  standing 
near  the  window.  He  seemed  to  have  been  waiting  for  her ;  his 
frank  and  honest  eyes  beamed  with  love  as  he  looked  at  her. 
They  both  belonged  to  the  better  class  of  farmers,  and  both 
were  naturally  distinguished  by  a  chaste  and  loyal  soul.  With 
a  deep  feeling  of  gladness  she  noted  his  bright,  neat  looks,  and 
resolved  afresh  to  show  him  that  she  was  deeply  attached  to 
him. 

But  when  the  music  began  and  a  troop  of  young  suitors 
hastened  toward  the  row  of  maidens,  and,  beneath  her  lowered 
eyelids,  she  rather  felt  than  saw  that  her  lover  was  approaching, 
she  conquered  her  feelings  so  far  as  to  consent  to  dance  with 
him.  But  when  he  spoke  to  her  in  the  interval  between  the 
dances,  he  saw  that  her  face  was  pale,  her  lips  trembling,  and 
her  cold,  haughty  glance  was  fixed  straight  before  her,  so  that 
her  beautiful  young  face  seemed  as  though  suddenly  frozen. 
Deeply  hurt,  he  led  her  silently  back  to  her  seat ;  she  left  the 
room  immediately  afterward  and  drove  home. 


I04  JORN     UHL 

On  the  way,  alone  in  her  trap,  in  the  far  silence  of  Nature 
and  the  night,  her  face  at  first  wore  the  same  look  as  it  had 
done  in  the  ballroom.  On  both  sides  of  the  road  there  ran  low 
embankments,  and  the  flat  fields  of  humble  heath  stretched  out 
mile  on  mile.  She  was  high  above  Nature.  She  sat  upright  in 
her  seat,  and  showed  b}'^  her  imperious  expression  how  proud 
she  was  that  she  alone  of  all  these  maidens  possessed  this  high 
chastir\'. 

While  the  vehicle  was  driving  on  so  noiselessly  through  the 
deep  sand  away  into  the  night,  she  suddenly  heard  a  bird  in 
the  distance  wailingly  call  to  his  mate.  The  approaching  wheels 
must  have  frightened  it  out  of  its  deep  sleep.  Immediately 
afterward  there  came  from  close  at  hand  a  comforting  cry  in 
response.  Closely  following  each  other  the  two  birds  flew 
whirring  over  the  roadway,  uttering  a  tender  note. 

As  the  girl  turned  her  eyes  from  the  birds  back  to  the  road, 
she  seemed  for  the  first  time  to  notice  how  terribly  desolate  the 
landscape  was,  and  the  air  seemed  full  of  a  dead,  empty  dark- 
ness. 

Her  solitariness,  of  which  she  had  been  so  proud  till  now, 
made  her  shudder  with  fear.  She  felt  how  much  easier  it  was 
to  act  like  her  sisters  than  to  set  her  face  against  what  Nature 
urged  upon  her,  with  such  a  smiling  and  anon  such  a  grave 
and  almost  threatening  mien.  Giving  herself  up  to  vhis  feel- 
ing, she  bowed  her  head  and  began  softly  to  weep.  Her  fall 
was  deeper  because  her  pride  before  had  been  so  high.  The 
image  of  her  lover,  which  lier  previous  haughtiness  had  robbed 
of  every  charm,  had  now,  once  more,  those  kindly,  honest 
features.  His  noble  nature,  which  found  expression  in  his  whole 
demeanor  and  in  each  dignified  movement,  now  possessed  her 
whole  heart;  and  her  heart  cried  aloud  for  him.  With  knitted 
brow  she  began  to  brood  over  what  manner  she  should  adopt 
to  overcome  her  shyness  toward  him  whom  she  loved  so  well. 
She  turned  over  all  sorts  of  strange  plans  in  her  mind  as  to 
how  she  could,  so  to  say,  outwit  herself.  At  last  she  hit  upon 
the  idea  of  waiting  in  front  of  his  gateway  till  the  approach  of 
dawn.  His  farm  lay  isolated  enough  for  such  a  purpose.  Nor 
was  it  impossible  that  he  might  return  home  soon  after  she  had 
left  the  room,  and  then,  when  he  came  up,  —  he  usually  went 
on  foot,  —  she  would  go  to  him  in  spite  of  herself  and  speak  to 
him.     She  would  ask  him  to  forgive  her  for  being  so  shy,  and 


JORN     UHL  105 

tell  him  she  loved  him  more  than  everything  in  the  whole  world. 
With  this  resolution  she  drove  forward  on  her  way,  intending 
really  to  carry  out  her  purpose. 

But  she  had  not  gone  far,  whilst  still  trying  to  think  out 
more  clearly  the  position  she  would  be  in,  before  she  remarked 
that  her  old  spirit  of  defiance  and  aversion  was  again  conu'ng 
over  her.  She  tried  in  vain  to  wrestle  with  it,  and  was  on  the 
point  of  entirely  succumbing  to  it.  The  brightness  in  her  beau- 
tiful eyes  had  already  died  out,  when  she  suddenly  came  to  that 
part  of  the  road  that  overlooks  the  little  gully,  where,  not  twenty 
steps  below  her,  the  Goldsoot  lay  directly  beneath  her.  There, 
in  the  half-light  of  the  little  valley,  near  the  silvery  disc  of  the 
water,  she  saw  the  white  figure  of  a  man.  He  was  standing 
motionless,  gazing  into  the  water.  In  her  fright  she  jerked 
the  reins,  thinking  to  rouse  the  fiery  young  mare  with  the  accus- 
tomed call  into  a  sharp  trot.  But  her  heart  was  in  her  throat 
and  her  voice  failed  her,  and  so  the  mare  understood  this  mute 
jerk  of  the  reins  as  an  order  to  stand,  and  kept  just  as  motion- 
less as  the  gleaming  figure  of  the  youth  by  the  mirror  of  the 
pool  and  as  the  panting  maiden  on  her  seat. 

Then  like  a  revelation  there  came  over  her  the  brave,  en- 
lightening thought  that  this  apparition  was  not  there  by  mere 
chance,  but  in  order  that  she  might  be  healed  by  a  return  to 
Nature.  She  saw  the  lithe,  proud,  strong  frame,  how  as  in  some 
harmonious  temple  one  part  stood  free  and  strong  upon  the 
other,  rising  to  the  knees,  then  growing  broader  in  strong  and 
youthful  power  to  the  hips,  then  strong  and  rushing,  like  a  cry 
of  delight,  up  to  the  breast  and  the  head,  which  was  bowed  down 
in  thought;  and  as  she  looked  only  for  a  moment,  her  inmost 
soul  told  her  that  here  pure  truth  had  her  dwelling,  here,  where 
God  and  Nature  are  housed  together  in  sweet,  pure  union.  She 
felt  that  the  man  there  was  the  comrade  of  her  innermost  being, 
with  whom  in  giving  and  taking,  each  with  his  especial  gifts, 
would  round  off  his  own  incomplete  nature  to  a  nature  full 
and  whole.  A  feeling  of  deepest  gladness  streamed  through 
her  limbs.  Her  eyes  filled  with  tears  so  that  she  saw  nothing 
more.  And  noticing  her  tears,  she  could  not  help  laughing 
softly  to  herself.  The  mare  started  on  at  the  sound,  and  the 
youth  by  the  pool  started  up  in  fear.  But  another,  too,  had 
heard  the  laughter  —  one  who  was  walking  along  the  road  be- 


io6  JORN     UHL 

hind  the  vehicle,  and  who  had  so  far  gone  along  with  ej^es  fixed 
on  the  ground,  for  his  thoughts  were  full  of  melancholy. 

He  heard  the  sound  of  laughter  and  immediately  recognized 
it.  He  walked  quicker,  and  soon  caught  up  with  the  vehicle. 
"  You  are  driving  very  slowly,"  he  said. 

She  laughed  again  softly,  and  said,  roguishly,  "  I  wanted  to 
drive  slowly,  so  that  you  might  catch  up  with  me.  Of  course 
you  had  to  put  on  your  coat." 

He  did  not  pay  any  closer  heed  to  her  remark.  He  thought 
that  as  she  had  left  the  room  she  had  seen  him  getting  ready  to 
fetch  his  overcoat;  but  he  clearly  heard  from  her  voice  that 
now  at  last  her  hour  was  come,  and  was  more  than  rejoiced, 
and  his  heart  laughed  within  him. 

He  laid  his  hand  upon  the  railing  of  the  cart  and  walked 
beside  her,  and  said,  "  Why  did  you  drive  off  so  early?  " 

"  Guess!  "  she  said. 

"  I  think  it  was  so  that  we  might  meet  here." 

"If  that's  what  you  think,  you're  a  clever  fellow,  and  you 
mustn't  keep  on  walking  beside  me  any  longer.  Come,  spring 
up. 

She  pulled  in  the  mare  and  he  unfastened  the  leather  rug 
that  was  over  her  knees.  But  before  jumping  in,  it  occurred 
to  him  that  it  would  be  good  for  him  to  show  a  little  pride. 
This  was  the  opportune  moment  for  such  a  thing,  he  considered, 
if  he  wanted  to  prevent  her  coy  nature  from  afterward  being 
dashed  by  the  thought  that  her  lover  had  never  had  dignity 
enough  to  check  her  for  her  frequently  repulsive  demeanor. 
So  he  said,  very  calmly  and  deliberately,  as  though  speaking 
of  a  matter  of  course: 

"  I  don't  wish  to  see  the  face  again  that  you  showed  me  in  the 
ballroom  to-night,  li  you  promise  to  be  good,  then  I'll  drive 
with  you." 

She  nodded  and  smiled.  "  Get  up  into  the  cart,"  she  said, 
"  and  you  shall  be  treated  as  you  deserve,  dear  friend."  And 
she  laid  her  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

With  that  he  got  up,  and  took  the  reins  into  his  hands.  She 
submitted,  and  leaned  back  in  the  cart,  and  said,  "Drive  slowly." 

"W>?"  he  asked. 

"  Are  you  so  shrewd,  and  yet  don't  know  that  much?  " 

"  I  know,"  said  he,  "  it  is  so  that  we  may  be  a  long  time 
together  on  our  way." 


JORN     UHL  107 

And  then  he  laid  his  arm  around  her  and  kissed  her,  and 
from  that  hour  forth  she  was  his  good  wife.  He  held  the  reins; 
and  she  told  him  when  she  wished  that  he  should  drive  slower 
or  faster. 

The  poor  youth  by  the  pool  had  hastily  put  on  his  clothes, 
and  had  quickly  climbed  up  to  the  edge  of  the  heath,  where 
the  vehicle  with  these  two  happy  young  lovers  had  just  vanished 
into  the  dark.  He  turned  once  more  and  looked  toward  the 
village.  The  wide  sand-downs,  that  his  ancestors  had  hollowed 
out  and  under  which  they  had  lived,  gleamed  faint  in  the  dis- 
tance. He  didn't  turn  again,  but  walked  straight  across  the 
heath  in  the  direction  of  the  two  oaks  that  stood,  broad  and 
squat,  near  the  cross-ways.  Under  one  of  them  stood  Trina 
Kiihl,  the  milkmaid.  She  had  a  bundle  under  her  arm,  like 
him,  and  in  her  black  confirmation  dress,  that  was  now  too  short 
for  her,  was  w^aiting  for  him.  "Where  have  you  been?"  she 
said. 

He  didn't  answer,  but  straightway  asked,  "  Do  you  really 
and  truly  want  to  go  with  me?  " 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "why  not?  Klaus  Uhl  is  charity  officer, 
and  so  he  either  keeps  my  wages  in  his  pocket,  or  puts  them  into 
the  parish  poor-box,  because  I  grew  up  in  the  workhouse.  And 
then  they  expect  me  to  be  grateful  into  the  bargain.  If  you'll 
take  me  with  you,  Fiete,  I'll  go  and  look  for  a  place  for  myself 
in  Hamburg.  But  I  don't  know  jet  where  it  lies.  I  must  pack 
my  things  a  little  better,  though." 

She  knelt  down,  untied  the  bundle,  and  laid  her  working 
dress  and  the  three  chemises  and  the  three  pairs  of  stockings 
and  a  pair  of  leather  slippers  neatly  together.  Then  they 
walked  on  side  by  side  over  the  rise.  The  wind  came  driving 
up  behind  them,  and  sand  and  withered  oak-leaves  flew  whirling 
around  them. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  rise,  where  it  was  sheltered  from 
the  wind,  they  found  Thiess  Thiessen's  old  cart  waiting.  Thiess 
had  taken  the  winkers  off  the  horses,  and  they  were  browsing 
along  by  the  embankment  below;  their  master  was  sitting, 
doubled  up,  on  the  high,  comfortable  seat,  fast  asleep. 

"Thiess,"  said  Fiete  Cray,  "wake  up!  Trina  Kiihl  is  here, 
too,  and  wants  to  go  with  me.     Don't  go  talking  to  us  about 


io8  JORN     UHL 

things,  Thiess;   what's  the  use!     Just  wait  till  we  get  to  Ham- 
burg and  see  how  we  get  on." 

Some  days  after  Easter,  shortly  before  school  recommenced, 
Hinnerk  Uhl,  who  was  the  smartest  of  the  brothers,  and  there- 
fore his  father's  favorite,  said : 

"  I  say,  father,  that  youngster,  Jorn,  talks  the  strangest  stuff 
you  can  imagine.  It  seems  he  doesn't  want  to  go  to  school, 
but  thinks  of  staying  here  at  home  with  us.  It  won't  do  at 
all  for  him  to  turn  farmer,  too.  Where  will  you  get  farms  for 
us  all?    You'll  have  to  have  a  talk  with  him." 

Jorn  was  summoned  before  his  father,  and  at  once  said  he 
wanted  to  stay  at  home  and  work.  His  father  scolded  and 
stormed,  and  at  last  struck  him  with  the  whip ;  but  he  could 
not  alter  him.  Jorn  did  not  say  what  were  his  reasons.  But 
that  evening,  as  he  lay  in  bed  in  the  little  room  which  Fiete 
Cray  had  once  shared  with  him,  Wieten  Klook  came  in  to 
comfort  him,  and  asked  him  to  tell  her  what  had  made  him 
change  his  mind,  after  having  been  so  terribly  eager  for  book- 
learning.  At  first  she  could  not  get  a  word  out  of  him,  so 
violently  did  he  weep.  But  after  awhile  he  unburdened  his 
heart  to  her.  It  was  what  she  had  already  divined:  "There 
would  have  been  no  one,"  he  sobbed,  "  who  would  have  looked 
after  the  foals  this  week  if  he  himself  had  not  done  it.  And 
the  groom  would  make  all  the  horses  wild  and  spoil  them  with 
kicking  them,  if  he  didn't  go  into  the  stable  now  and  again. 
The  bay  cob  had  a  wound  on  the  knee  already.  Even  Fiete 
Cray  had  often  not  looked  after  things  properly,  but  after  he 
had  gone  away,  if  he  (Jorn)  were  to  go  away,  too,  everything 
would  go  to  rack  and  ruin."  When  she  tried  to  soothe  him, 
and  stroked  his  bristly  hair,  saying,  "  Now,  it's  all  right,  laddie; 
don't  take  on  so  about  it,  dearie,"  his  weeping  burst  forth  afresh, 
and  between  his  sobs  she  heard,  "  Do  you  think  .  .  .  that  I 
like  .  .  .  doing  it,  Wieten?  .  .  .  Now  I  can't  learn  anything 
at  all.  I'll  never  have  time  to  take  a  book  in  my  hand.  And 
I'll  be  as  stupid  as  all  the  rest." 

Next  morning,  when  he  rose,  Jorn  Uhl  put  on  the  blue 
linen  stable-jacket  that  Fiete  Cray  had  thrown  aside. 

Thus  it  was  that  this  whirlwind  came  upon  the  Wentorf 
children,  tearing  away  the  one  that  wanted  to  stay,  and  thrust- 
ing him  out  into  the  world ;    slamming  the  door  in  the  face 


J  CRN     UHL  109 

of  the  one  that  wanted  to  depart;  settinj^  the  laborer's  son  down 
upon  the  bald,  desolate  heath,  and  filling  his  vivid  fancy  with 
pictures  in  the  shadowy  distance,  of  all  the  treasures  of  the 
world  and  the  glory  of  them,  and  then  disdainfully  casting  an 
old  blue  stable-coat  before  the  rich  man's  son. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

Next  morning  Jorn  Uhl  had  put  on  the  stahle-jacket  that 
Fiete  Cray  in  his  rage  had  flung  against  the  wall. 

From  this  hour  forth  he  had  no  longer  any  inclination  for 
the  school,  for  it  had  nothing  to  offer  him.  The  instruction 
he  got  in  religious  dogma  in  the  confirmation  class  bored  him, 
because  he  could  not  understand  it.  These  doctrines  of  sin 
and  grace  were  incomprehensible  to  a  hard-headed,  practical 
mind  like  his,  whose  whole  world  of  interest  lay  centred  in 
the  Uhl  and  its  village.  Sin  came  to  him  too  late,  and  for 
grace  he  was  not  yet  ready.  For  sin  only  began  with  robbing, 
thieving,  and  killing,  while  grace  came  much  too  soon,  namely, 
when  any  one  liked  "  to  cast  his  sin  upon  the  Lord."  God 
seemed  to  him  to  be  a  kind  of  unpractical  bookkeeper,  who  kept 
his  accounts  in  good  enough  order  in  his  own  office,  but  was 
grossly  deceived  by  his  servants  abroad. 

As  for  J5rn,  the  farm-hands  liked  him,  regarding  him  as 
their  equal.  A  difficulty,  however,  arose  when  he  began  to 
show  that  he  meant  to  be  above  them.  He  wanted  them  to 
willingly  respect  him,  and  to  be  a  little  more  diligent  about 
their  work  when  they  knew  he  was  looking  at  them.  Thus 
it  came  about  that  while  they  liked  him  well  enough  for 
sharing  their  lot  and  their  work,  they  looked  askance  when  they 
saw  him  eying  a  ploughman  resting  at  the  end  of  a  furrow 
in  some  distant  field,  or  a  milkmaid  that  had  forgot  her  milking 
as  she  sat  in  the  cow-stall  gossiping  with  some  neighbor.  Then 
he'd  come  striding  straight  across  the  field  with  some  laughing 
remark,  as  though  it  were  some  chance  errand  that  had  brought 
him  that  way.  Then  they  would  refer  to  him  among  them- 
selves as  the  Provost,  and  others  again  called  him  "the  field-spy." 
But  he  paid  no  heed  to  their  raillery.  It  troubled  him  not  a 
jot  so  long  as  the  land  and  the  cattle  on  the  Uhl  got  fair 
treatment.     He  had  no  cares  and  no  interests  beside  that,  and 

no 


J  0  R  N     U  H  L  III 

this  concentration  of  his  will  and  soul  upon  one  great  object  in 
early  youth  was  a  gain  for  his  whole  life. 

It  was  for  this  reason,  too,  that  in  the  two  years  following 
his  confirmation  the  old  farmer,  Wilhelm  Dreyer,  held  such 
a  high  place  in  his  eyes.  Lx)ng  years  ago  this  man  had  begun 
with  little  or  nothing,  had  led  a  diligent,  thrifty  life  for  two 
score  years,  and  was  now,  a  man  of  over  seventy,  living  in  a 
fine  old  house  of  his  own  in  the  village  street  under  the  lindens. 
For  many  a  year  he  had  been  estranged  from  Klaus  Uhl,  and 
had  neither  glance  nor  greeting  for  the  elder  sons  of  that  family. 
He  had  always  observed  the  world  with  keen,  shrewd  eyes,  and 
well  knew  that  the  life  they  were  lerding,  with  its  stupidity 
and  frivolity,  its  cowardice  and  its  evil  conscience,  at  last  ends 
in  poverty,  wickedness,  and  despair.  But  when  the  old  man 
saw  this  lanky  Jorn  working  in  the  fields,  he'd  come  leaping 
and  limping  over  the  ditches  with  his  shrewd,  clean-shaven  face 
and  his  long,  iron-gray  hair,  and  stand  by  the  youth  at  his  work, 
asking  him  questions  and  imparting  to  him  all  sorts  of  farm- 
lore  that  he  had  gathered  in  the  experience  of  his  long  life.  And 
Jorn  would  listen  as  seldom  a  man  listens  to  his  minister  in 
church.  In  those  years  it  was  like  a  gospel  for  him.  To  work 
hard,  and  to  be  sober,  and  to  manage  his  farm  with  shrewdness 
and  thrift,  those  were  the  "  good  tidings  "  that  the  old  evan- 
gelist Dreyer  had  preached  to  him. 

When,  long  years  afterward,  his  way  once  led  him  past  the 
fields  of  the  Uhl,  and  one  of  his  sons  was  walking  by  his  side, 
he  raised  his  stick  and  pointed  to  a  piece  of  ploughed  land. 
"  See,  laddie,"  he  said,  "  there,  in  the  third  land  from  the  end, 
that's  where  old  Dreyer  taught  me  to  turn  the  head  of  a  fur- 
row." And  another  time,  "  See,  laddie,  down  there,  where  the 
beans  are  in  blossom,  that's  where  I  cut  my  first  swath  of  corn ; 
and  not  far  from  there,  by  the  ditch,  I  learnt  from  old  Dre}er 
how  to  sharpen  a  scythe.  I  wasn't  quite  seventeen  then.  The 
wheat  was  ready  to  fall  from  the  ear,  and  hands  were  not  to 
be  had  to  reap  it.  The  old  man  came  over  to  the  Uhl,  and 
said :  '  Jorn,  you  must  just  tackle  it  yourself.'  And  as  soon  as  I 
had  started  he  came  over  himself  with  his  scythe,  —  which 
was  rusty,  I  remember,  —  and  we  mowed  together  till  the 
sun  went  down.  By  then  his  scythe  was  bright  enough,  I'll 
warrant  you.  Afterward  he  laughed,  and  said,  '  I  didn't 
want  to  let  thee  beat  me,  laddie.'     And  I  laughed  back  and 


112  JORN     UHL 

said,  '  And  I  didn't  want  you  to  beat  me.'  I  have  never  since 
slept  so  sound  as  I  did  that  night." 

Jorn  grew  more  and  more  disliked  by  his  brothers.  He  was 
a  sort  of  evil  conscience  haunting  them.  That  uncertain  judg- 
ment with  which  boNs  of  sixteen  regard  the  grown-up  members 
of  their  family  prevented  him  from  showing  them  any  manifest 
contempt.  He  rather  held  himself  shyly  aloof  from  them, 
answering  not  a  word  when  they  railed  at  him,  and  blushing 
when  they  found  him  doing  a  task  that  they  had  neglected. 
He  blushed  both  for  himself  and  for  them.  But  it  was  just 
this  modesty  and  stillness  in  his  demeanor  that  exasperated  them 
the  more.  It  was  as  if  they  felt  in  it  some  tacit  condemnation 
of  their  conduct. 

Sometimes  when  he  went  backwards  and  forwards  between 
the  house  and  the  stables,  with  his  gray-blue  working  blouse 
flapping  around  his  gaunt  limbs,  his  father,  sitting  in  his  cart 
ready  to  drive  into  town,  would  raise  his  whip  and  point  out 
his  youngest  son  to  the  elder  brothers,  crying  out  with  his 
full,  soft,  jocund  voice,  "There's  a  bright  specimen  for  you! 
Gad!  what  a  Provost  he  would  have  made!  I  wouldn't  let 
the  fellow  ride  beside  me  into  town  for  a  five-pun'  note.  Do 
you  mean  to  tell  me  that  he's  been  bred  on  the  Uhl?  " 

After  his  father  had  driven  off,  Hans  would  say:  ''  I  say, 
youngster,  I  am  going  to  do  my  best  to  be  the  master  here 
by  and  by.  You  don't  like  girls,  and  will  run  all  your  life  in 
single  harness.  You're  cut  out  for  a  lackey  and  a  drudge.  So 
just  stay  here  with  me  on  the  farm!  I'll  see  you  have  every- 
thing you  want,  and  will  look  after  you  when  you've  worked 
yourself  stiff." 

But  Hinnerk  said  straight  out,  "  We  want  to  do  without  a 
stableman  next  j'ear,  so  that  we  can  have  his  wages  to  have  a 
good  swill  with." 

Of  an  evening  Jorn  and  Elsbe  sat  with  Wieten  in  the  room 
by  the  middle  passage.  In  these  last  years  Wieten  had  grown 
quieter  and  more  pensive,  especially  since  that  day  when  Fiete 
Cray  shouted  his  reproaches  to  her  across  the  farmyard.  She 
had  such  a  retentive  memory  and  such  power  of  imagination 
that  all  the  events  which  she  had  ever  heard  or  seen  in  her 
past  life  seemed  present  to  her,  and  stood  around  her  like  pic- 
tures that  never  paled  or  lost  their  vividness.  Earlier,  when 
she  was  still  young,  the  courage  of  youth  had  helped  her  to  get 


JORN     UHL  113 

the  mastery  over  these  pictures  that  thronged  her  imagination, 
and  to  put  aside  the  gloomy  and  sad  ones,  and  bring  forward 
the  brighter  and  kindh'cr  ones.  But  gradually,  with  approach- 
ing age,  the  darker  pictures  haunted  her  more  and  more  per- 
sistently. She  would  sometimes  gaze  mutely  before  her  for 
hours  at  a  time,  with  still,  sad  face.  In  such  hours  her  fancy 
moved  through  the  days  of  the  past,  from  picture  to  picture, 
seeing  now  some  tragic  deed  that  in  a  single  day  had  wrecked 
some  family's  happiness,  anon  some  heavy  sorrow  weighing  for 
years  and  years  upon  a  house,  anon  bright,  loving  eyes  wet  with 
idle  tears,  anon  some  stern,  hard  face,  flushed  wild  with  rage. 
So  she  was  drawn  on  frcjm  image  to  image,  against  her  will. 
Much  later,  when  she  had  grown  very  old,  and  lived  in  serene 
peace  of  mind  upon  Haze  Farm,  the  pictures  grew  faint,  and 
her  worry  from  them  ceased. 

Of  an  evening  Jorn  used  to  sit  there,  almost  inanimate,  dead 
tired  after  his  heavy  work.  He  would  say  little,  and  go  early 
to  bed. 

That  was  bad  company  for  the  sprightly  little  Elsbe,  in  whom 
the  thought  was  growing  stronger,  warmer,  and  clearer,  that 
she  had  once  uttered  when  a  child,  "  I  must  have  something 
to  love." 

Now  and  again  the  big  brothers  had  company  in  the  front 
part  of  the  house.  Girls  were  found  w  illing  to  share  in  their 
festivit}'.  And  whenever  the  loud  shouts  of  the  revellers  or 
the  suppressed  sound  of  girls'  laughter  was  heard  coming  across 
the  great  corridor  to  the  little  room  in  which  the  silent  Wieten 
and  Jorn  sat,  Elsbe  would  raise  her  fair  dark  head  with  its 
mass  of  hair  and  its  soft,  fresh  lines  of  budding  womanhood, 
and  look  restlessly  toward  the  door.  And  Jorn  would  noisily 
change  his  posture,  and  say  something  to  divert  his  sister's 
thoughts  from  the  door.  But  she  would  get  up  restlessly  and 
go  toward  the  window  or  the  door.  Sometimes  she  would  open 
the  door  and  look  out.  Then  she  would  hear  two  anxious 
voices  calling  from  the  table:  "Elsbe,  stay  here!"  "Elsbe. 
shut  the  door!"  And  she  would  return  sullenly  to  the  table, 
sajMng  to  herself,  "  Oh!  If  I  were  only  grown  up!  Oh!  if  I 
were  only  grown  up!  " 

During  the  whole  Sunday  forenoon  Torn  used  to  work  in  the 
stables,  and  look  every  now  and  again  where  his  sister  was. 
Not  till  evening,  when  she  went  to  see  some  girl  friends  of  her 


114  JORN     UHL 

own  age,  did  he  get  three  or  four  hours  entirely  to  himself.  Then 
he  would  either  sit  quietly  in  his  own  room,  or  go  over  the 
way  to  Jasper  Cray's  humble  cottage.  Jorn  Uhl!  who  was  it 
that  shaped  thy  mind  and  character  in  those  days,  when  the 
heart  of  man  is  soft  as  wax  beneath  the  seal?  Who  was  thy 
guide  in  the  days  when  parents  can  no  longer  hold  us,  and  other 
folk  will  not  touch  the  reins  that  trail  behind  us  in  our  mad 
career  down  that  road  that  leads  to  the  Vanity  Fair  of  life, 
to  that  great  market-place  where  Fate  asks  solemnly  of  each 
of  us,  "What  art  thou  worth?"  For  thus  it  is,  at  all  times 
in  our  life  we  have  our  special  advisers  and  guides,  parents, 
school,  and  laws,  experience,  wives,  trials,  and  sorrows;  but 
in  those  years  when  one  spring  gale  after  the  other  comes 
rushing  over  the  tops  of  the  young  and  all  too  slender  trees, 
we  are  left  unsupported  and  helpless.  Ho!  how  the  branches 
cracked !  how  the  leaves  whirled  and  flew !  We  have  scars 
to  show  j^et  on  our  souls  from  those  wild  storms  of  spring. 

Old  Dreyer  was  Jorn's  teacher  in  all  practical  knowledge; 
but  it  was  Jasper  Cray  who  led  him  out  into  the  broad,  path- 
less fields  of  the  wisdom  of  life.  Klaus  Uhl  sat  in  the  inn, 
talking  his  shrewd  things,  for  what  was  there  he  did  not  know 
and  understand?  His  son  had  to  go  over  to  little  curly-headed 
Jasper  Cray,  and  there,  under  the  little  thatch  roof,  he  was 
first  led  to  think  for  himself,  and  there  got  his  first  knowledge 
of  life.  The  importance  of  those  hours  was  the  greater  as 
manhood  and  boyhood  were  here  met  together;  and  as  each 
thought  highly  of  the  other,  it  came  to  many  a  warm,  straight- 
forward argument  betw^een  them.  Where  did  we  learn  most? 
In  the  schools,  and  in  the  auditoriums  of  universities?  We 
learnt  most,  I  say,  when  we  went  abroad  into  the  fields  for 
ourselves,  and  tried  to  soar  as  best  we  might. 

Like  all  the  Crays,  Jasper,  too,  had  an  interesting  past.  He 
had  been  down  south  in  Germany  in  those  tumultuous  years 
when  the  German  people  so  vehemently  demanded  a  larger 
share  in  the  government  of  their  land.  Jasper  Cray  of  Wentorf 
had  not  been  able  to  remain  a  silent  spectator.  It  is  not  in 
the  nature  of  a  Cray  to  be  neutral.  A  little  hot  in  the  face,  a 
little  out  of  breath,  a  little  discomposed  —  in  short,  like  one 
who  has  been  violently  thrown  out  of  a  dancing-room,  and 
looks  about  him  and  then  goes  on  his  way  as  if  nothing  had 
happened ;    that's  the  way  he  came  back  to  Wentorf. 


JORN     UHL  IIS 

If  he  had  not  taken  a  wife,  or  if  he  had  postponed  his  niar- 
riaj^e,  he  would  probably  have  left  home  a^ain  and  would  have 
undertaken  this  and  that,  and  would  perhaps  have  grown  rich ; 
but  while  still  under  the  nightmare  of  his  miserable  liome- 
coming,  he  determined  to  marry,  and  in  his  hasty,  unclear  desire 
to  put  bit  and  bridle  on  his  inclinations,  he  chanced  upon  a 
girl  of  the  most  modest  wits  imaginable,  and  one  who,  besides, 
grew  homesick  as  soon  as  she  could  no  longer  see  the  chimney- 
pots of  her  parents'  house.  Children  came,  and  sickness,  and 
all  the  daily  worries  of  poor  folk.  He  was  a  day-laborer  at 
the  Uhl,  and  had  known  now  for  many  a  day  that  he  would 
never  be  anything  better.  In  winter,  when  there  was  no  work, 
he  made  heather-brooms,  brushes,  and  currycombs;  as  far  as 
appearance  went  he  seemed  exactly  like  his  comrades. 

But  sometimes  his  old  restlessness  broke  forth  afresh.  At 
each  annual  festival  of  the  children,  toward  midnight,  when 
he  had  given  his  neighbor  Klaus  Uhl  a  "  piece  of  his  mind," 
and  prophesied  the  decay  and  downfall  of  him,  he  would  begin 
singing  the  old  song  he  had  once  sung  behind  the  barricades 
at  Frankfurt;  and  in  still  later  years,  when  the  time  of  the 
parliamentary  elections  came  around,  he  would  hover  about 
seven  or  eight  houses  where  politically  ignorant  or  indifferent 
people  lived,  and  teach  and  rouse  them. 

To  outward  view  he  was  like  the  rest  of  them;  but  in  his 
heart  there  still  slumbered  the  fantastic  thoughts  and  dreams 
of  old.  And  as  these  dreams  were  in  such  striking  contrast 
with  the  modest,  anxious  reality,  he  had  the  choice  of  either 
looking  at  the  world  as  one  whose  life  had  been  embittered, 
and  thus  embittering  it  still  more  for  himself  and  others,  or 
of  bantering  himself  good-humoredly  for  his  errors,  and  riding 
over  the  fields  of  his  neighbors,  telling  each  landholder  how 
badly  his  farm  was  managed. 

Sitting  under  the  eaves  of  the  humble  cottage  many  a  Sun- 
day evening  Jorn  and  he  talked  about  the  world  and  its  wiys. 
His  wife  sat  inside  behind  the  open  window;  the  children 
returned  from  their  games  on  the  Ringelshorn  and  went  quietly 
to  bed.  The  eldest,  Gottfried,  who  was  slow  of  speech  and 
very  backward  at  school,  sat  on  a  chair  by  the  door  in  the 
midst  of  numbers  of  fine  white  shavings,  cutting  clothes-pegs, 
a  business  he  drove  on  his  own  account.  He  had  his  mother's 
limited  intelligence,  and  showed  no  interest  for  the  things  his 


ii6  JORN     UHL 

father  used  to  discuss  with  Jorn  Uhl.  Since  his  confirmation 
he  had  never  been  to  church,  nor  had  he  ever  looked  at  a  book 
or  a  newspaper.  His  intellectual  life  was  bounded  by  what  he 
had  received  from  his  ancestors,  and  by  what  he  heard  and 
saw  along  the  country-side  as  a  hawker.  But  although  thus 
sparing  of  mental  effort,  and  although  his  single  concern  was 
for  what  lay  around  about  him  and  happened  within  a  radius 
of  ten  miles  or  so,  while  everything  else,  religion,  politics,  news, 
remained  a  matter  of  indifference  to  him,  he  nevertheless  slowly 
acquired  a  shrewd  insight  into  what  would  further  his  modest 
ends,  and  bravely  supported  himself  and  his  family  later  on; 
and  without  becoming  wicked  or  godless,  outflew  many  of  his 
comrades  at  school,  who  had  learnt  a  great  deal,  but  scattered 
their  energy  by  running  after  every  novelty  that  was  mentioned 
in  the  newspaper  or  in  the  village  street. 

"  Jorn,"  said  Jasper  Cray,  "  what  does  it  say  in  the  New 
Testament?  Of  course,  you  don't  know!  No;  you  Uhls 
don't  know.  It  says  that  every  fifty  years  all  property  must 
be  divided  and  allotted  afresh.  You  Uhls  have  been  too  long 
there  on  that  land  of  yours;  we  Grays  ought  to  have  a  turn 
on  your  broad,  flat  acres.  I  tell  you,  we  would  manage  matters 
a  bit  better  on  your  farms  than  you  would  if  you  had  our 
sand  to  deal  with.  You  Uhls  ought  to  become  sand  farmers 
for  awhile,  Jorn;  just  picture  to  yourself  how  your  father 
would  look  driving  his  little  cart,  drawn  by  dogs.  Why,  he 
couldn't  do  it  to  save  his  life!  Then  he'd  come  to  me.  '  Mr. 
Cray,  one  moment!  Mr.  Cray,  how  do  you  do  this?'  Then 
I'd  look  him  up  and  down  a  bit  haughtily,  and  say,  '  I've  got 
no  time  to  spare,  Uhl,  for  such  things.     Go  to  my  wife.'  " 

His  wife  cried  out  from  her  room,  "  You're  just  skiting, 
Jasper !  " 

"  Whisht,  Trina!  .  .  .  Look,  Jorn,  if  you  open  your  mouth  to 
the  west  wind  and  gulp  in  as  much  as  you  want  to  live  on, 
there's  not  a  soul  will  say  to  you,  '  Hey,  be  off,  there,  that's 
my  wind.'  But  if  you  set  yourself  down  somewhere  or  other, 
and  in  the  sweat  of  your  brow  begin  turning  over  as  much 
land  as  you  need  in  order  to  fill  the  bellies  of  yourself  and 
your  children,  then  men  will  say,  '  Be  off  from  there,  that's 
my  land!  '  Both  lungs  and  stomach,  Jorn,  have  got  from  God 
the  right  to  be  filled.  So  when  you've  enough  to  eat,  and 
clothes  to  put  on,  be  content.     And  if  any  one  is  clever  and 


JORN     UHL  117 

hard-working  enough  to  accomplish  more  for  himself,  nobody 
should  hinder  him,  say  1." 

"  That's  too  hard  a  matter  for  me  to  think  out,"  said  Jorn. 
Too  hard?  You  don't  say  so!  and  yet  you've  got  such 
a  long,  meditative  nose,  too.  Look  you.  Isn't  there  land 
enough  in  the  world,  and  isn't  the  government  a  strong  man? 
How  much  land  is  there  badly  ploughed  here  in  Schleswig- 
ilolstein  alone?  Why,  it  would  bring  in  twice  as  much  if  it 
were  in  the  workmen's  hands!  " 

"  Don't  make  too  sure  about  that,"  said  Jorn ;  "  all  workmen 
wi.uldn't  be  such  hard  v\'orkers  and  so  sober  and  thrifty  as  you 
think.  Have  you  forgotten  how  you  treated  your  twelve  hun- 
dred marks,  then  ?  " 

"Laddie,  who's  talking  about  old  times?" 

"  I  am,"  said  J(")rn,  and  slapped  his  long  hand  on  his  knee. 
"  If  1  were  to  get  ten  thousand  marks  to-morrow,  do  you  think 
I'd  waste  a  single  i)criny  of  it  in  spite  of  my  seventeen  years?  " 

"  Just  be  still,  Jorn,"  said  Jasper  Cray,  "  and  talk  about 
something  else." 

A  muflled,  threatening  sound,  like  the  mutter  of  a  thunder- 
storm toward  evening,  came  from  the  direction  of  the  bed  in 
the  little  room,  and  Trina  Cray  appeared,  leaning  out  of  the 
window  in  her  bedroom  jacket.  "  I'll  tell  you  exactly  how  it 
was,  Jorn." 

"  Now  you'll  hear  something,"  said  Jasper  Cray,  with  a  wink. 

"  Well,  when  Aunt  Stina  died,  she  left  us  twelve  hundred 
marks.  Her  sister,  old  Trina,  is  still  alive.  We  went  and 
drew  the  money  ourselves  from  the  procurator.  I  reiiiember  it 
all  as  if  it  happened  jcstcrday;  Jasper  had  tied  up  the  bright 
gold  pieces  and  the  silver  crowns  in  a  handkerchief.  Near 
Gudendorf  we  sat  down  in  the  heath  and  counted  it  over 
again,  for  when  the  man  counted  it  out  to  us  at  the  office  it 
was  all  of  a  dazzle  to  us. 

"  Well,  at  first  he  was  quite  sensible,  but  after  a  few  days  I 
saw  that  he  was  losing  his  appetite,  and  he'd  leave  his  work 
half-done  and  come  home  and  tear  the  drawer  open  so  as  to 
count  the  money  again.     And  of  a  night  he  couldn't  sleep. 

"  That  lasted  eight  days  or  so,  and  he  kept  getting  worse. 
He'd  sit  up  in  bed  for  hours  at  a  time,  at  last  he'd  get  up 
and  sit  on  the  drawer  that  held  the  money.  I'd  fall  asleep 
again,  but  when  day  began  to  dawn  and  I  opened  my  eyes, 


ii8  JORN     UHL 

there  he  would  be  sitting  half-dressed,  and  had  got  the  big  axe 
between  his  knees. 

"  You  can  picture  to  yourself  what  a  fright  I'd  get.  I  was 
afraid  he  was  going  crazy,  and  persuaded  him  to  take  the  money 
to  the  savings-bank.  Then  he  would  no  longer  need  to  worry 
about  it.  I  told  him  they  had  an  iron  chest  there  with  seven- 
teen locks  to  it,  and  I  don't  know  what  else  besides.  At  first 
he  wouldn't  hear  of  it,  but  at  last  he  took  it  to  them  and  got  a 
sort  of  little  yellow  book  for  it. 

"  But  now  things  grew  even  worse  than  before.  What  I  had 
to  put  up  with  from  that  man,  Jorn !  He  was  everlastingly 
reading  in  his  bank-book,  and  saying  that  one  sentence  spat  in 
the  face  of  the  other.  The  whole  thing  was  clearly  a  swindle, 
he  said,  and  if  they'd  been  decent,  honest  people  the  book  ought 
to  have  been  at  least  five  times  as  thick,  something  like  a  psalter 
—  not  such  a  rag  of  a  thing  as  it  was.  At  last,  one  night,  when 
he  got  up  to  look  for  the  book  and  couldn't  find  it  immediately, 
what  did  he  do  but  turn  on  me  and  say  I  had  stolen  it.  So 
I  advised  him  to  draw  his  money  out  again,  which  he  did. 

"  Now,  Jorn,  what  do  you  think?  He  began  drinking,  Jorn. 
He  gambled,  he  brawled,  he  quarrelled  with  me,  with  Uhl,  and 
with  Dominie  Peters  about  the  children.  There  was  nothing 
but  a  constant  hubbub  in  the  house.  Do  you  remember  how 
you  stood  on  the  dung-heap  at  the  Uhl  brandishing  the  fork 
and  shouting  at  the  top  of  your  voice,  '  I'm  Jasper  Cray  of 
Wentorf'?  Yet  nobody  had  touched  him.  And  do  you  re- 
member how  you  came  back  from  town,  bringing  a  chest  of 
wine,  and  wanting  to  hold  political  meetings?  Fancy  us  and 
wine  and  politics!  And  do  you  remember  how  you  stood  over 
there,  striking  the  post  with  your  purse,  and  crying,  '  Jasper 
Cray  has  money  '  ?  That  was  a  year,  Jorn !  While  it  lasted 
no  one  was  so  w  retched  as  I.  Afterward,  when  the  money  was 
all  gone,  and  he  had  no  longer  any  anxiety  about  it,  and  knew 
that  he  had  to  go  to  work  again,  he  looked  after  his  wife  and 
children  like  a  Christian  once  more,  and  I  got  on  all  right  with 
him  again.  Fiete  was  five  years  old  then;  oh,  dear,  oh,  dear,  I 
wonder  where  Fiete  is  now  ?  " 

She  shut  the  window. 

"  I'll  bet  you,"  said  Jasper  Cray,  "  that  if  any  one  said  to 
her,  here's  twelve  hundred  marks,  and  here's  the  story  of  the 


JORN     UHL  119 

twelve  hundred  marks,  take  your  choice,  she'd  choose  the  story. 
Sometimes  I'm  a  bit  hoity-toity,  Jorn,  and  1  can't  say  I  think 
much  of  my  wife  Trina  Cray's  brain  power,  but  when  I  think 
of  this  story,  and  especially  when  she  freshens  it  up  in  my  mind, 
I'm  a  humble  man.  That  money  came  too  sudden.  And  there 
was  too  much  of  it  —  twelve  hundred  marks.  I  wasn't 
prepared  for  it.  When  the  other  aunt  dies,  and  she's  about 
eighty  now,  then  jou'll  see  how  fine  1  can  take  care  of  money." 

"  Just  you  wait,"  said  Jorn,  "  then  you'll  be  worried  out  of 
your  life  again  by  it,  and  you'll  never  rest  till  you've  drunk 
yourself  poor  again." 

"Wha-at!"  said  Jasper  Cray,  looking  at  Jorn  with  wide, 
reproachful  eyes;  "do  you  mean  to  say  that  a  man  doesn't 
get  sense  into  his  head  in  his  old  days?  " 

"  Many  do,"  said  Jorn,  "  but  not  all,  by  a  long  chalk."  With 
dark  thoughts  in  his  mind  he  glanced  over  toward  the  Uhl 
which  lay  in  the  shadow  of  the  poplars  and  ashes  on  the  other 
side  of  the  road. 

Many  an  evening  they  talked  together.  They  were  like  an 
ill-matched  pair  of  hounds  crossing  a  field.  Jasper  Cray  always 
ahead,  his  nose  even  where,  yelping  loudly;  Jorn  Uhl  behind, 
growling,  and  constantly  exhorted  to  caution  and  circumspection 
by  the  rashness  of  the  other ;  and  cautious  and  circumspect 
Jorn  Uhl  remained  throughout  his  life. 

Then  when  it  grew  dusk  the  head-servant  used  to  come 
from  over  the  way,  bringing  the  two  girls  with  him.  His 
name  was  Harke  Sim.  He  became  a  railway  porter  in  later 
days,  and  was  the  man  who  prevented  the  accident  near  Ham- 
burg by  running  toward  the  train  with  his  coat  on  fire,  so  that 
the  engine-driver  pulled  up  just  before  he  came  to  the  broken 
rail.  This  Harke  Sim  used  to  bring  his  concertina  under  his 
arm,  and  they  always  made  room  for  him  on  the  bench  under 
the  eaves,  although  he  hadn't  too  much  elbow-room  there.  The 
girls  sat  down  in  the  green  grass  by  the  roadside,  and  Harke  Sim 
would  play,  and  beat  time  with  his  head  so  stolidly,  and  looking 
so  stupid  with  his  half-shut  eyes  the  while,  that  no  one  would 
ever  have  given  him  credit  for  an  act  requiring  swift  resolution 
and  presence  of  mind. 

After  that  they  spoke  about  neighbor  So-and-so's  corn,  and 
neighbor  What-d'you-call-him's  daughter.    After  that,  about  the 


I20  JORN     UHL 

village  schoolmaster  and  the  minister;    after  that  about  Ham- 
burg;   after  that  about  the  icing,  and  last  of  all  about  Death. 
By  this,  the  moon  hung  low  among  the  poplars,  and  a  weasel 
would  cross  the  road  from  time  to  time. 

At  the  same  hour  one  evening  in  a  high  street  in  Hamburg, 
close  to  St.  Peter's  Church,  a  young  man  was  sitting  in  a 
bookseller's  shop,  waiting  there  as  senior  apprentice  to  serve 
any  late  customer  that  might  drop  in.  He  was  the  son  of  a 
clergyman  somewhere  on  the  ed;;e  of  the  Liineberger  Heath, 
and,  having  grown  up  in  the  open  air,  had  come  to  logger- 
heads with  Latin  at  an  early  stage  in  his  career.  But  despite 
this  distaste  for  Latin,  he  liked  reading  books  in  his  own  lan- 
guage, and  the  more  fantastic  they  were  the  better  they  pleased 
him.  So  his  father  had  got  him  a  place  in  this  shop  beneath 
St.  Peter's  Church,  where  he  was  surrounded  by  books  to  his 
heart's  content.  He  was  delighted  to  get  the  situation ;  but  it 
soon  turned  out  that  he  had  by  no  means  obtained  his  ideal  of 
life  as  yet.  There  were  plenty  of  books  there,  and  he  might 
peer  into  them,  and  even  now  and  again  take  one  that  pleased 
him  home  with  him  to  read.  But  he  felt  that  these  books  wanted 
a  different  setting,  so  to  say  —  the  great  wide  heath  and  the  hay- 
stacks full  of  shady  places  and  the  old  sand-pit ;  and  poignant 
homesickness  filled  the  young  'prentice's  heart. 

So  he  was  sitting  that  evening  in  the  back  part  of  the  shop 
in  the  little  recess  under  the  staircase,  reading  a  book  called 
"  The  Chronicles  of  Sparrow  Alley,"  written  by  a  certain  Wil- 
helm  Raabe,  and  he  read,  and  read,  and  was  no  longer  in  Ham- 
burg, but  was  far  away  from  St.  Peter's  Church,  playing  near 
the  straw-thatched  manse  again,  and  climbing  the  birch-tree  by 
the  old  wall,  and  looking  out  over  the  wide  land  for  the  nearest 
church  spire.  Suddenly  the  shop  door  opened,  and  a  young 
workman  about  his  own  age,  a  sturdy,  thick-set  youth  in  a  gray 
jumper  and  with  a  round,  fresh  face  and  enterprising  eyes  and 
reddish  hair,  stood  at  the  counter  looking  at  him.  And  as  the 
Luneberger  slowly  got  up,  the  customer  laid  a  little  pile  of 
silver  on  the  counter,  and  said,  "  I  want  to  buy  some  books 
with  this." 

"  Books?  " 

"Yes,  books!  Have  you  ever  heard  whether  a  certain 
Theodor  Storm  has  written  a  book?" 


JORN     UHL  121 

"Storm?  I  should  think  he  had.  He's  written  a  host  of 
little  novels." 

"  Novels?  I  don't  know  what  that  is;  but  it  doesn't  sound 
the  right  thing.  I'll  tell  you  straight  what  I  mean,  I  carry 
out  parcels  for  a  business  here  in  Herman  Stra^se,  and  I've 
waited  till  I  got  a  chance  to  speak  to  you  alone.  It's  like  this. 
On  our  farm  at  home  we  had  an  old  servant  who  was  properly 
called  Pcnn,  but  she  was  so  mighty  shrewd  that  people  always 
called  her  VVicten  Klook.  Well,  this  Wieten  Klook  used  to 
make  out  that  a  certain  I'heodor  Storm  and  a  man  named 
MiJllenhoff  were  going  to  write  a  book  together.  She  herself 
hadn't  much  of  an  opinion  of  them  and  their  projects;  but  if 
they  by  any  chance  really  have  written  a  book,  I'd  like  to  have 
it;    and  there's  the  money,  six  Prussian  dollars." 

The  'prentice  in  the  shop  under  St.  Peter's  sat  on  the  ac- 
countant's stool  looking  at  this  strange  customer  with  eyes 
wide  with  astonishment.  "Storm  and  Miillenholi!  What's 
the  book  about,  then?" 

"  Well  ...  to  put  it  short  .  .  .  about  how  a  man  is  to 
grow  wise  and  rich.     That's  what  I  want  to  know." 

Then  the  'prentice  from  the  Liinebcrger  Heath  stood  up 
and  said,  emphatically:  "There's  no  such  book  to  be  had. 
Bless  me,  anything  else  but  that!  What!  get  wise  by  reading 
a  book!  I  tell  you  you  can  grow  stupid  from  many  a  book; 
and  there's  books'Il  drive  you  crazy.  Othcrs'l!  make  you  sad, 
and  some'll  make  you  laugh,  perhaps.  And  others  may  teach 
you  this  and  that,  it's  true,  but  as  for  making  you  wise  and 
rich  —  tush !  There  are  no  such  books.  .  .  .  You  ask  what 
Storm's  written?  Just  wait  a  moment.  .  .  .  See,  here's  one. 
This  is  a  book  he  wrote.  There  arc  stories  in  it  about  good 
and  decp-natured  men  and  all  sorts  of  dreamers.  He's  one  of 
our  greatest  poets." 

The  purchaser  shook  his  head,  biting  his  teeth  together, 
and  gazing  at  the  counter.  "  Then  Wieten  must  have  been 
right  after  all  when  she  said  he'd  come  to  no  good." 

The  youth  from  the  I.iineberger  Heath  pushed  aside  the 
books  that  lay  before  him.  "  My  opinion's  this.  Look,  now, 
these  books,  from  the  lowest  to  the  topmost  shelf,  row  above 
row  —  you  can  read  'em  all  through,  and  be  as  stupid  and  even 
stupider  after  it  than  you  were  before.    One  doesn't  grow  wise 


122  JORN     UHL 

from  books,  but  from  the  life  one  lives.  Do  you  come  from 
the  Liineberger  Heath?" 

"  No,  from  Dittmarsh." 

"  It's  all  the  same.  If  I  wanted  to  give  you  a  piece  of  advice, 
I'd  say:  '  If  you  wish  to  grow  wise  and  rich,  then  go  to  some 
place  where  there  are  no  books.'  .  .  .  Books,  indeed!  why,  if 
I  hadn't  my  father,  and  if  mother  wouldn't  cry  her  eyes 
out,  I'd  go  straight  to  America.  By  George!  I  would.  And 
woe  betide  the  man  who  put  a  book  under  my  nose  after  that." 

"  So  that's  your  idea,"  said  Fiete  Cray,  reflectively,  as  he 
picked  up  his  money  and  put  it  back  in  his  pocket.  "  My  father 
and  mother  don't  trouble  a  scrap  about  me.  I've  made  up  my 
mind  to  be  rich.  It's  all  the  same  how.  I've  heard  both  good 
and  bad  of  America.  Never  of  a  cross  between  the  two.  I 
believe  I'll  do  it." 

"  Do  it,  man ;  and  if  you've  time  and  inclination,  and  if 
you  get  on,  just  write  a  line  to  the  senior  'prentice  in  Herrold's 
bookshop.     What's  your  name?" 

"  Fiete  Cray  of  Wentorf." 


CHAPTER    Vril. 

The  harvest  had  been  gathered  in  and  the  lindens  were  full 
of  yellow  blossoms,  when  Jorn,  one  summer's  day,  walked  past 
the  old  schoolhouse,  carrying  a  ploughshare  over  his  shoulder, 
on  his  way  to  the  smith's.  Suddenly  a  gooseberry  flew  out 
of  the  garden  and  struck  his  cap.  Turning  around  he  saw 
1/isbeth's  fair  head  peeping  out  from  among  the  bushes.  He 
could  do  nothing  but  stand  there  and  stare  at  her,  and  he  felt 
not  a  little  embarrassed  when  he  saw  her  quickly  making  her 
way  through  the  shrubs.  She  stood  at  the  fence,  and  called 
over  to  him  in  a  shy  voice,  "  Jiirgen,  come  here  for  a  moment." 

He  glanced  hastily  around  to  see  if  any  one  were  looking  at 
him ;  but  it  was  noon,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  village  street, 
and  all  the  houses  in  it,  were  fast  asleep.  So  he  took  off  his 
cap  and  walked  over  to  her.  During  the  last  year  he  had  but 
seldom  seen  Lisbeth,  and  had  always  passed  her  by  with  a 
brief  "Good  day."  He  had  been  hard  at  work;  but  she  had 
been  at  school  in  the  town.  He  had  been  ploughing  all  day 
long  for  months  in  the  lonely  fields,  plodding  through  the  loose 
soil,  while  she  had  been  tripping  daintily  along  the  smooth  and 
narrow  footpaths  of  the  town.  He  had  changed  for  the  worse 
and  had  grown  cloddish  and  rough;  while  she  had  grown  more 
refined  in  appearance,  as  well  as  in  character  and  knowledge.  He 
had  felt  all  this  in  a  vague  way,  and  had  shunned  meeting  her. 

And  to  make  matters  worse  Dame  Nature  had  been  playing 
her  old,  everlasting  game  with  them.  In  the  school  orchard 
and  on  Ringclshorn  the  two  children  had  been  playmates  and 
comrades,  but  she  had  loosed  their  hands  and  led  them  far 
apart  from  each  other  into  new,  strange  lands,  and  had  conjured 
up  for  each  the  most  diverse  and  magic  dreams,  looking  upon 
them  the  while  with  her  wise,  sweet  smile.  That  is  always 
her  way.  Afterward,  after  long  years,  when  in  solitude  and 
silence  she  has  brought  them  to  the  flowering  season,  she  leads 

123 


124  JORN     UHL 

her  children  together  again,  no  longer  as  playmates,  but  as 
representatives  of  their  sex.  .  .  .  Jorn  Uhl  and  Lisbeth  meet 
to-day  once  more,  but  it  will  be  a  mere  outward  and  unhappy 
meeting,  for  they  are  both  still  immature,  no  longer  boy  and 
girl  and  not  yet  man  and  woman,  and  each  is  still  dwelling 
in  his  own  strange  land. 

Leaning  against  the  fence  she  told  him  with  a  wise  air  what 
long  holidays  she  had  this  time.  The  town  school,  she  said, 
was  to  be  broken  up,  and  it  would  take  a  long  time  before 
another  would  be  established.  And  did  he  know  that  she  was 
going  to  be  a  governess? 

No;  he  didn't  know.  He  had  never  even  heard  that  there 
were  such  people  as  governesses.  He  asked  shyly  whether  she 
would  soon  be  coming  to  visit  Elsbe. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  with  a  toss  of  her  head,  "  Elsbe  is  a  year 
older  than  I  am.  They  are  all  quite  different  from  me.  There 
isn't  a  soul  I  can  be  friends  with.     It's  dreadfully  dreary." 

He  said  that  she  really  should  come.  It  would  give  Elsbe 
so  much  pleasure. 

"  Do  you  really  mean  it?  "  she  said,  doubtingly.  "  I  thought 
Elsbe  didn't  care  about  me  any  more.  Just  fancy,  one  evening 
when  it  was  already  dusk  —  it's  not  so  long  ago  —  she  was 
standing  near  my  window,  and  I  heard  her  say  to  some  one 
that  I  didn't  understand  a  thing  yet,  and  was  just  like  a  child. 
Will  you  be  there,  Jorn,  if  I  come  and  call  at  the  Uhl?" 

"  No,"  he  said.  "  I  have  to  work  all  day,  and  you  mustn't 
come  in  the  evening,  or  Elsbe  will  be  taking  you  home  after- 
ward, and  that  doesn't  do." 

She  bent  her  head  as  if  she  were  meditating  something.  Pres- 
ently she  said,  "  Then,  couldn't  you  come  over  to  us,  some- 
times? " 

He  got  a  shock  to  think  that  such  a  thing  should  be  expected 
of  him.     "  No,"  he  said,  "  I  can't  do  that." 

"  But  you  don't  need  to  come  into  the  house,  only  into  the 
garden.  You  can  go  around  the  back  way.  Grandfather  and 
grandmother  will  be  inside  reading," 

He  took  a  quick  glance  at  her.  She  seemed  to  him  so  un- 
speakably charming  and  refined.  It  was  wonderful  to  think 
that  there  could  be  anything  so  dainty  and  neat  in  the  world. 
But  he  didn't  see  how  he  could  possibly  feel  comfortable  talk- 
ing to  her.     He  certainly  had  a  strong  inclination  to  be  with 


JORN     UHL  125 

her,  but  against  that  he  knew  that  it  would  make  him  infinitely 
uncomfortable,  liut  slie  insisted  upon  his  coming;,  and  took  it 
as  such  a  matter  of  course,  and  seemed  so  eager  about  it  all,  that 
he  had  to  agree  to  it. 

The  whole  afternoon  he  wondered  how  things  would  go 
with  him  that  evening.  He  thought  it  not  impossible  that  she 
nu'ght  find  him  tedious  and  send  him  awny  again.  And  it 
almost  seemed  to  him  that  among  the  many  possibilities  this 
was  the  most  attractive.  Hut  again  he  thought  that  it  might 
not  be  altogether  out  of  the  question  that  he  might  by  chance 
be  able  to  entertain  her  and  win  some  approval  in  her  eyes. 
The  idea  struck  him  that  he  might  think  out  beforehand  a 
siJiject  to  discuss  with  her,  and  he  went  over  certain  topics. 
He  said  to  himself  that  a  girl  like  Lisbeth  would  set  most  store 
by  learning,  and  tried  to  remember  certain  conversations  that 
Dominie  Peters  had  had  with  the  minister  when  he  had  been  sit- 
ting by  at  his  books.  His  range  of  knowledge  was  small,  but  he 
managed  to  get  together  a  few  subjects  that  he  fancied  might 
come  in  handy.  He  thought  he  would  begin  by  speaking  about 
a  new  line  of  steamers  to  Denmark,  and  afterward  about  agri- 
cultural schools  that  were  just  starting  at  that  time,  then  about 
a  newly  invented  incubator,  and  last  of  all,  if  the  worst  came 
to  the  worst,  he  could  say  a  word  or  two  about  the  practice 
of  burning  widows  in  India.  He  had  read  something  on  this 
subject  in  a  piece  of  newspaper  that  a  shopman  in  town  had 
wrapped  some  goods  in.  His  idea  was  to  broach  one  of  these 
subjects  in  some  such  casual  way  as  —  perhaps  she  had  read  .  .  . 
or  what  did  she  think  about  ...  or  did  she  know  anything 
about  .  .  .  and  then  he  would  unfold  the  treasures  of  his 
wisdom. 

He  started  an  hour  too  early,  and  went  wandering  along 
beside  all  the  ditches  and  peering  into  them  as  though  he  were 
seeking  a  stray  sheep,  and  at  last  reached  the  neighborhood  of 
the  orchard.  There  was  a  ditch  there,  full  of  clear,  running 
water,  and  over  it  slanted  a  short  willow-stump  whose  thick 
poll  bristled  with  short,  straight  twigs,  like  hair.  She  was 
sitting  on  the  tree-trunk  almost  hidden  by  these  rods,  and  was 
dangling  her  feet  over  the  water.  She  was  looking  very  grave, 
and  gave  him  a  pensive  nod  as  he  politely  raised  his  cap. 

His  heart  was  thumping  so,  that  instead  of  clearing  the 
ditch  at  a  bound  as  he  had  intended,  he  half-stepped  across  if 


126  JORN     UHL 

with  a  long  and  very  clumsy  stride,  and  nearly  got  stuck  In 
the  bogg}'  soil.  He  took  a  hasty  look  at  her,  and  was  almost 
certain  that  there  was  a  smile  in  her  eyes,  but  her  face  imme- 
diately resumed  its  grave  look,  so  that  the  Indian  widows  in- 
voluntarily occurred  to  him,  and  he  had  luck  with  them.  She 
told  him  she  had  just  been  reading  about  very  serious  things, 
and  he  asked  hesitatingly  was  it  necessary  that  she  should  do  so. 
He  thought  she  ought  rather  to  read  something  amusing. 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  said,  "  one  must  know  something  about  the 
sad  side  of  life,  too." 

Then  she  inquired  as  to  the  exact  shape  of  the  funeral  pyre, 
and  whether  the  women  took  their  ornaments  with  them  when 
they  went  to  be  burned.  She  considered  it,  on  the  whole,  a 
good  thing,  and  declared  that  she  would  be  quite  willing  to 
be  burned  if  her  husband  should  die,  because  she  would  only 
marry  for  love.  And  then  she  began  to  talk  about  jewelry 
again,  and,  as  chance  would  have  it,  she  had  a  brooch  and  a 
watch-chain  in  her  pocket,  and  a  watch  had  been  promised  her 
for  Christmas. 

So  far,  all  had  gone  well  beyond  expectation,  but  somehow 
or  other  the  conversation  now  began  to  flag.  They  gazed 
into  the  running  water  and  said  nothing.  She  felt  unfriendly 
and  defiant  toward  him,  and  thought  to  herself,  "  He's  a  down- 
right yokel." 

For  his  part,  he  was  wishing  he  was  a  hundred  miles  away. 
He  tortured  himself  to  find  something  to  say;  but  not  an 
idea  occurred  to  him  that  he  thought  would  do.  She  was 
just  as  much  a  stranger  to  him  as  if  she  spoke  a  different 
language,  and  were  quite  another  kind  of  being. 

Finally  he  began  telling  her  in  a  diffident  voice  about  the 
two  foals  that  had  been  born  at  the  Uhl  a  few  days  before. 
But  she  had  no  desire  to  hear  anything  about  them. 

"What's  that  got  to  do  with  me?"  she  said,  laughing,  and 
her  face  had  suddenly  become  quite  girlish  and  happy  and 
natural.  Her  lips  parted  and  shovv^ed  her  teeth,  her  hair  hung 
down  over  her  ears,  and  all  at  once  he  recognized  "  Rain- 
tweet. 

"  Just  so,"  he  said,  "  but  what  shall  we  talk  about,  then?  " 

So  she  told  him  what  her  schoolmates  talked  of. 

"  To  begin  with,  we  discuss  the  teachers  and  the  girls  who 
don't  happen  to  be  by,  and  often  we  talk  about  boys.     I  don't, 


JORN     UHL  127 

though.  I  don't  think  it's  becoming  at  all.  But  see,  Jorn, 
jour  foot's  In  the  water." 

He  pulled  It  out  with  a  jerk,  as  if  lie  had  been  burnt.  But  all 
at  once  she  saw  how  unhappy  he  was  sitting  there. 

"  Come,"  she  said,  "  let's  get  up  and  go  for  a  little  walk. 
That's  another  thing  they  do  in  town.  Some  of  them  go  for 
walks  with  the  big  boys,  even." 

He  got  up  as  she  had  bidden  him,  and  watched  her  making 
her  preparations.  First  she  gave  him  her  gold  brooch  and  chain, 
and  then  the  book.  Next  she  put  her  dress  right,  though  It 
seemed  to  him  quite  unnecessary,  and  then  she  said,  "  Shall  I 
jump  into  your  arms?  " 

"  That's  what  you  did  that  time  when  we  wanted  to  catch 
the  fox."  He  placed  himself  with  arms  outstretched  and  feet 
apart,  as  if  to  catch  a  runaway  horse. 

■  She  laughed  at  him  merrily.  "  I  don't  think  I  will,  after  all," 
she  said ;  "  you  might  crush  me  to  death."  And  she  got  down 
decorously,  and  was  extremely  careful  about  the  hem  of  her 
dress. 

They  walked  up  and  down  the  narrow  path  under  the  low 
branches  of  the  apple-trees.  "  Do  you  remember  how  you 
wouldn't  go  to  the  Children's  Festival  with  me?  " 

"  H  your  grandfather  had  only  said  to  me,  '  You'll  have  to 
walk  with  Lisbeth,'  Fd  have  gone  with  you  willingly,  but  I 
didn't  venture  to  ask  you  yourself."  He  drew  a  deep  breath 
when  he  had  said  it,  and  looked  at  her  expectantly. 

"  Just  tell  me,  supposing  there  was  a  dance  now,  would  you 
dance  with  me?  " 

"  Wouldn't  I?  From  start  to  finish!  "  he  said,  and  glanced 
at  her,  and  In  his  eyes  lay  all  his  frank,  simple-hearted  ad- 
miration for  her. 

"  Well!  "  she  said,  "  now  Fll  tell  you  something.  This  time 
It's  I  who  won't  dance  with  you." 

He  hung  his  head  and  was  silent.  He  found  it  quite  natural 
that  she  shouldn't  wish  to  dance  with  him. 

Then  her  mood  changed  again,  like  April  weather,  and  she 
laughed  and  said,  winningly,  "  I  didn't  mean  it  so  seriously, 
you  know,  I  believe  I  would  dance  with  you,  after  all,  but  you 
would  have  to  hold  me  quite  loosely,  as  they  do  in  town, 
where  they're  so  polite.  But  now  j^ou  must  go  away  again, 
ril  come  with  you  as  far  as  the  willow  and  we'll  say  good-by 


128  JORN     UHL 

there.  And  come  again  on  Sunday.  I'll  be  sitting  on  the 
tree  waiting  for  you." 

When  he  reached  the  meadow  on  the  other  side  of  the  water- 
course, they  said  good-by  to  each  other  and  separated. 

And  this  was  how  his  little  playmate  crossed  his  path  again. 
With  her  kindly  help  it  seemed  as  if  Jorn  Uhl's  transition  from 
boyhood  to  youth  was  to  be  completed  in  the  most  natural  and 
loveliest  way.  It  seemed  as  if  his  life,  as  far  as  love  was  in 
question,  was  to  run  a  smooth  and  even  course.  If  only  the 
sand-carting  hadn't  come  eight  days  later. 

But  for  the  sand-carting  Jorn  Uhl  would  have  been  able  to 
say  when  he  came  to  die,  "The  sins  of  youth?  What  are 
they?  Work  and  Want  I  have  known  in  my  youth,  but  never 
Sin."  He  would  never  have  had  to  knit  his  brow  in  remem- 
brance of  the  faults  of  his  j'outh,  like  Jasper  Cray  and  every 
one  else.  But  as  if  it  were  a  thing  inevitable,  as  if  every  mortal, 
even  the  best,  must  needs  get  dust  on  his  boots  and  spots  on  his 
coat,  this  sand-carting  came,  and  Jorn's  fair  robe  of  honesty 
got  a  mighty  rent  in  it. 

Unsuspicious  of  any  danger,  he  was  driving  with  his  sand- 
cart,  toward  evening,  along  below  Ringelshorn.  A  fresh  sea- 
breeze  was  blowing;  the  sky  was  full  of  driving  clouds,  gray  and 
white  and  blue  all  mingled  together.  It  was  the  sort  of  weather 
to  take  in  great,  deep  breaths,  and  rejoice  that  one  is  alive  to  do 
it.  Jorn  Uhl  did  so,  too.  He  sat  on  the  foot-board  of  his  cart, 
dangling  his  legs,  humming  a  tune  into  the  wind,  and  looking 
dreamily  across  the  silent,  level  fields,  and  was  just  the  very 
picture  of  a  peaceful,  contemplative  farmer's  lad.  No  one 
would  have  thought  it  possible  that  this  long-limbed,  long-faced 
fellow  should  this  very  evening,  trembling  in  all  his  limbs,  look 
Nature  herself  in  her  beautiful  and  terrible  eyes  with  their  dark 
and  bottomless  depths. 

When  he  had  driven  around  Ringelshorn,  he  saw  Telse 
Dierk,  whom  people  thereabouts  called  the  Sand-lass,  standing 
not  far  from  her  house  on  the  edge  of  her  sand-pit.  She  was 
gazing  after  a  loaded  cart  which  was  just  going  around  the 
curve  of  the  road,  and  was  leaning  lightly  on  the  long-handled 
shovel,  with  which  she  had  been  helping  to  load  the  sand. 
When  she  heard  the  rattling  and  creaking  of  Jorn's  cart,  she 
turned  around  and  called  to  him:  "So  late,  Jorn  Uhl;  but 
come  along.     It  just  suits  me  that  you've  come.     I've  not  the 


JORN     UHL  129 

slightest  inclination  to  knock  off  work  yet  awhile."  She  stood 
in  front  of  the  yelhnvish-uhite  sand-bank,  v\hich  reached  hij^h 
above  her  head,  her  intelli5j;ent  eyes  sparkling.  She  was  bare- 
footed, and  her  cheeks  looked  as  rosy  as  though  she  had  just 
arisen  from  a  refreshing  sleep.  For  ten  years  she  had  looked 
just  the  same;  she  stood  there  slim  and  lithe  of  body,  full- 
breasted  and  bright-eyed,  with  fresh,  untiring  vigor  in  her 
whole  bearing. 

Ten  years  ago,  when  she  was  quite  a  young  thing,  she  had 
had  a  bosom  friend,  the  only  daughter  of  a  neighbor  who  had 
his  little  farm  up  at  the  top  of  the  valley  in  which  the  Goldsoot 
lay,  not  far  from  the  edge  of  the  plateau.  One  day  this  friend 
of  hers  became  engaged  to  a  young  farmer  from  the  Geest. 
The  two  young  people,  as  often  happens  among  the  Geest  folk, 
had  been  "  cobbled  together,"  as  they  say;  that  is,  their  parents 
and  some  aunt  or  other,  with  a  bent  for  match-making,  had 
persuaded  them  that  they  ought  to  marry,  pointing  out  how 
wonderfully  well  suited  they  were  for  each  other  in  person  and 
age  and  circumstances. 

The  bridegroom-elect  let  them  have  their  own  way.  He  was 
still  a  young  man,  his  heart  still  uniouched  and  fanc)-  free. 
So  when  they  introduced  his  bride  to  him  at  the  next  village 
fair,  he  took  it  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  found  her  quite 
passable.  What  weighed  most  with  him  was  the  consideration 
that  his  brother,  to  whom  he  was  deeply  attached,  would  now 
be  able  to  take  over  their  father's  farm  without  their  dividing 
it,  which  would  not  have  been  the  case  if  he  himself  had 
married  a  portionless  wife.  And  a  division  of  the  farm  was 
hardly  feasible,  seeing  how  small  it  was  and  how  poor  its  soil. 

It  was  the  mysterious  will  of  Fate  that  Telse  Dierk,  dwell- 
ing by  her  sand-pit  down  in  the  marsh,  should  never  have  met 
the  man  her  friend  was  engaged  to  before  the  wedding.  The 
young  bride  to  be,  however,  would  often  come  down  through 
the  Goldsoot  valley  and  talk  to  her  about  her  lover's  looks 
and  ways,  and  about  his  eyes  and  his  hair  and  his  walk,  and 
how  he  held  this  or  that  opinion  which  pleased  or  displeased 
her.  Telse  Dierk  liked  to  listen,  and  once  said  in  jest,  "  It's  a 
pity  that  I  never  knew  him.  I  believe  he'd  just  have  been  the 
very  man  for  me." 

"  Oh,"  said  her  friend,  "  isn't  that  strange?  I've  often 
thought  exactly  the  same  thing.      He's  so  like  you  in  lots  of 


ISO  J  O  R  N     U  H  L 

ways,  and  often  has  ideas  strangely  like  yours.  He's  always 
wanting  to  get  to  the  bottom  of  things,  you  know,  just  as  you 
are.  He'll  talk  as  long  and  as  earnestly  about  a  hen's  egg  as 
about  Holy  Baptism." 

Fate  willed  it,  too,  that  this  fresh,  hearty  girl,  who  had 
never  been  ill  in  her  life,  had  to  remain  at  home  with  a  severe 
cold  during  the  days  of  the  wedding;  but  on  the  ninth  day 
after  the  wedding  she  went  up  the  valley  to  visit  the  young 
wife  in  her  new  happiness.  The  two  then  saw  each  other 
for  the  first  time.  They  were  both  tall  and  stalwart  figures, 
such  as  are  often  seen  in  that  part  of  the  country  —  he  of  a 
dark,  sun-browned  complexion,  with  dark,  curly  hair;  she  quite 
fair,  with  hair  as  yellow  as  corn.  They  now  looked  upon  each 
other  for  the  first  time,  and  started  as  if  they  had  seen  a  ghost. 
The  young  bride  had  a  great  deal  to  talk  about,  and  prattled 
and  gossiped  about  the  wedding.  These  two,  however,  had 
not  a  word  to  say. 

When  the  twilight  came  and  the  sky  began  to  fill  with 
clouds  and  rain,  Telse's  friend,  proud  of  having  such  a  husband 
to  do  her  bidding,  asked  him  to  escort  her  friend  into  the 
valley.  Without  a  word  he  took  down  his  cap  and  followed 
the  guest  out-of-doors.  As  they  went  down  the  hollow,  the 
rain  fell  in  streams.  They  had  almost  reached  the  Goldsoot, 
he  walking  behind  her  along  the  narrow,  clayey  path,  when  she 
slipped  and  almost  fell  backwards;  and  he  caught  and  held 
her.  And,  as  each  believed  that  the  darkness  muffled  and  hid 
everything,  they  now  gazed  frank  and  full  into  each  other's 
faces.  But  there  were  rents  in  the  driving  clouds,  and  the 
moon  and  ^  the  stars  had  suddenly  appeared,  throwing  their 
spears  of  light  from  eye  to  eye,  so  that  each  saw  the  unveiled 
soul  of  the  other;  and  in  that  moment  both  knew  that  they 
were  fated  to  love  each  other,  and  no  one  else  in  the  world,  as 
long  as  ever  they  lived.  Then  they  parted  and  fled,  because 
they  feared  each  other. 

Years  went  by.     It  was  a  time  of  bitter  anguish. 

She  worked  from  morning  till  night  in  the  house,  and  would 
often  of  her  own  free  will  help  to  load  the  carts  with  sand,  so 
as  to  tire  herself  out  and  have  rest.  And  of  an  evening  she 
would  sit  by  her  window  behind  her  pinks  and  geraniums  and 
look  out  into  the  marsh,  in  the  direction  where  Ringelshorn 
could  not  be  seen.     She  had  refused  one  offer  of  marriage,  and 


JORN     UHL  131 

treated  the  young  men  who  would  fain  have  spoken  a  word 
witli  her  so  harshly  and  coldly  that  they  ceased  once  for  all  to 
trouble  her. 

But  he,  like  her,  was  famishing  for  love.  His  wife  had  been 
brought  up  as  an  only  child  by  foolish  parents.  Her  every 
word  had  been  gaped  at  and  admired,  and  so,  despite  her 
shallow  mind,  she  had  acquired  a  certain  pertness  of  speech. 
Her  husband,  on  the  contrary,  was  a  clear-headed,  thoughtful 
man,  and  carefully  weighed  everything  he  said;  he  therefore 
found  it  the  more  irksome  that  his  wife  should  have  so  much 
to  say  about  everybody  and  everything.  After  they  had  been 
married  some  years  she  bore  a  child.  She  never  recovered  from 
the  great  strain  this  put  upon  her  weakly  frame.  All  her 
youthful  bloom  fled,  and  thenceforth  she  was  constantly  ailing. 
Ere  long  the  child  died,  and  the  marriage  remained  barren. 

Years  went  by.  The  two  lovers  had  tacitly  resolved  to 
avoid  each  other's  house,  and  even  to  shun  each  other  if  they 
should  by  chance  meet  anywhere.  But  when  they  actually 
happened  to  meet,  each  thought  to  himself  that  no  one  would 
begrudge  them  the  poor  satisfaction  of  a  swift,  shy  glance  at 
the  other's  face.  There  slumbered,  however,  in  both  their 
breasts  the  unuttered  hope  that  they  would  one  day  belong 
to  each  other.  Neither  of  them  dreamed,  however,  that  this 
thought  was  in  the  other's  mind ;  they  hardly  realized  that  it 
was  in  their  own.  Yet  it  was  this  hope  that  kept  their  passion 
within  bounds. 

Telse  Dierk's  father  had  fallen  on  the  field  of  battle,  and 
now  her  mother,  too,  died.  Her  mother  had  been  a  strong, 
capable  woman  in  her  time,  but  after  her  sudden  bereavement 
her  mind  had  always  been  subject  to  fits  of  restlessness,  and 
this  grew  worse  with  her  as  she  neared  the  fifties.  Sometimes 
she  would  wander  aimlessly  around  and  around  the  house  and 
about  the  fields.  She  liked  to  listen  to  the  wind  howling;  and 
when  her  headaches  got  very  bad  she  used  to  go  up  to  Ringels- 
horn,  and,  standing  there,  on  the  bleak  edge  of  the  plateau, 
would  find  relief  in  exposing  herself  to  the  keen,  cruel  blast. 

Some  weeks  after  her  mother's  death,  the  lover  came  down 
to  her  one  morning  in  broad  daylight.  He  had  first  looked  out 
from  the  hillside  to  see  that  no  sand-carters  were  coming.  She 
came  out  and  confronted  him  f)n  the  threshold  of  her  house, 
asking  him  harshly  what  he  wanted  there.     It  was  an  autumn 


132  J  0  R  N     U  H  L 

day  with  a  fresh  wind  blowing.  He  asked  what  was  to  be- 
come of  them  both.  Still  keeping  her  outward  calmness,  she 
said  in  an  even  voice  that  things  must  remain  as  they  were,  for 
she  could  not  trample  God's  commandments  under  foot,  as 
though  they  did  not  exist,  and  she  hoped  he  could  not,  either. 

She  took  up  a  basket  of  washing,  and  stepped  forward  with 
dark,  resolute  face,  and  he  was  obliged  to  give  way  and  go  out- 
side again.  But  he  told  her  that  he  could  not  think  that  God's 
will  was  to  crush  him  and  all  his  joy  to  death  with  His  com- 
mandments. He  had  begged  his  wife  to  sell  their  property, 
and  move  somewhere  else;  but  she  must  have  guessed  his  reasons, 
and  had  laughed  at  him  and  mocked  him. 

She  looked  at  him  darkly,  as  though  it  roused  some  deep 
repugnance  in  her  to  have  to  listen  to  what  he  was  muttering 
there.  Without  getting  another  word  from  her,  he  had  to  turn 
back  home. 

Some  time  afterward  he  again  spoke  to  her,  as  she  was  pull- 
ing up  the  bean-sticks  in  her  garden  and  tying  them  in  bundles. 
He  spoke  beseechingly,  saying  he  could  no  longer  bear  it; 
begging  her  even  to  go  away  from  Ringelshorn,  since  he  could 
not.  Then  she  had  begun  to  weep  bitterly.  After  this  meeting, 
he  found  it  easier  to  contrive  to  meet  her  every  evening  toward 
dusk  near  the  Goldsoot.  They  both  came  to  the  pool  with 
buckets  in  their  hands,  looked  at  each  other  long  and  earnestly, 
spoke  a  few  words  with  each  other  —  commonplace  words,  or 
sometimes  even  shy,  burning  words  of  affection;  but  they  did 
not  touch  hands,  but  separated  and  went  their  ways  again.  He 
deceived  himself  into  thinking  he  would  be  satisfied  with  these 
nightly  meetings,  and  had  besides  put  iron  bands  upon  his 
desire;  but  she  saw  clearly  that  every  day,  with  every  look  and 
movement,  he  was  drawing  her  nearer  to  him.  It  seemed  to 
her  as  tliough  some  irresistible  Fate  were  dragging  her  toward 
him,  and  she  felt  her  resistance  growing  feebler  and  feebler.  A 
thousand  persuasive  voices  spoke  within  her.  She  was  in  terror 
like  a  man  whom  some  voluptuous  madness  is  urging  toward 
the  brink  of  an  abyss;  her  fear  was  such  that  she  often  trem- 
bled as  though  smitten  by  fever.  Her  single  resource,  the  hard 
work  that  brought  fatigue  and  sleep,  now  failed  her.  In  her 
distress  she  hit  upon  a  device  which  was  as  strange  as  it  was 
dangerous;    she  determined  to  try  if  she  could  not  deceive  her 


J  O  R  N     IT  H  L  133 

heart  and  her  senses  with  some  other  lover,  to  whom  she  could 
belong  without  sin. 

For  several  years  she  had  taken  no  part  in  the  social  gather- 
ings of  the  farmers  around  about.  Young  men  seeking  wives 
avoided  her,  despite  her  healthy  beauty.  For  in  the  farmyards 
a  report  had  got  about  that  she  was  on  too  intimate  a  footing 
with  the  husband  of  her  friend.  Whilst  she  was  fighting  against 
this  passion  of  hers,  for  which  there  were  so  many  excuses,  as 
bravely  as  any  one  in  the  land,  men's  tongues  had  already  found 
her  guilty  and  passed  summary  and  cruel  judgment. 

About  this  time  Jorn  Uhl  came  four  or  five  times  of  an 
evening,  after  farm  work  was  over,  to  get  sand,  and  it  pleased 
her  to  see  him  so  grave  and  silent.  He  looked  at  her  as  though 
to  say,  "  \'ou  are  just  as  lonely  and  as  full  of  cares  as  I." 
Gradually  she  got  to  think  more  aiul  more  about  him,  and  at 
last  persuaded  herself  that  she  loved  this  fresh-cheeked  youth. 
And  she  was  glad  of  her  delight  in  him,  and  of  an  evening 
would  laugh  aloud  and  say  to  herself,  "  Now  you  are  rid  of 
the  other  one,  and  have  a  bonnie  young  lover  out  of  the  every- 
day run  of  men."  And  when  he,  in  his  shy,  uncertain  way, 
grew  a  little  brighter  and  looked  at  her  with  kindly  eyes,  and 
now  and  then  ventured  a  jest,  she  laughed  in  her  heart  and 
thought:  "  It's  a  quiet  and  seemly  way  of  being  loved;  with- 
out danger,  but  with  a  charm  of  its  own  for  all  that." 

When  he  came  the  fourth  evening,  and  they  had  both  filled 
the  cart,  she  invited  him,  in  her  fulness  of  heart,  to  come  into 
the  cottage  and  have  a  chat  for  awhile.  She  took  a  scat  oppo- 
site him  at  the  table  just  as  she  was,  with  her  dress  loose  at 
the  neck  and  with  sleeves  tucked  up,  leaning  on  her  elbow. 
Smiling  kindly  upon  him,  she  asked  him  about  one  thing  and 
another,  and  appeared  to  be  delighted  and  full  of  curiosity  as 
to  whether  his  quiet  nature  would  thaw  a  little.  And  when 
he  didn't  answer  she  made  things  worse  by  saying,  with  a  merry 
gleam  in  her  gray  eyes,  "  You're  a  bonnie  lad,  Jorn.  You  have 
such  thoughtful  eyes,  as  if  you  were  always  seeking  for  things 
that  are  hidden  away ;  and  you  have  such  a  strong-willed  face, 
as  though  you  were  always  determined  to  get  your  own  way. 
That's  what  girls  like.  When  you're  three  years  older  or  so, 
j^ou  can  pick  out  whoever  you  like  for  a  sweetheart,  and  be 
sure  she  won't  say  you  nay." 

He  could  say  nothing,  but  only  looked  at  her. 


134  JORN     UHL 

She  began  afresh,  asking:  "  What'll  she  be  like,  the  girl 
you'll  love  —  eh,  Jorn  ?  " 

Then  he  stood  up,  and  she  got  up,  too.  And  thinking  that 
he  was  offended  —  her  own  feminine  vanity  was  hurt,  too  — 
she  came  up  to  him  and  said,  quietly,  and  with  a  smile  on  her 
lips:  "  So  in  me  you  can  find  nothing  to  admire  —  I'm  not  even 
worth  an  answer,  am  I  ?  Must  you  go  away  in  a  mood  like 
that?  Won't  you  take  just  one  kiss  from  me  along  with  you 
on  your  way?  " 

His  heart  stood  still  with  the  shock  of  her  words,  and  he 
did  not  move.  A  moment  afterward,  however,  he  caught  her 
to  his  breast  with  such  a  billow  of  wild  passion  that,  in  spite 
of  her  terror,  she  tore  herself  away  from  him  with  the  greatest 
effort.  She  had  wished  to  awaken  a  soft,  mild  flame,  and  had 
stirred  up  a  furious  blaze.  She  pushed  him  violently  away  and 
bade  him  go. 

On  the  following  evening,  toward  midnight,  he  stood  at  her 
window  and  knocked,  begging  her  to  let  him  in.  She  pre- 
tended not  to  hear  him.  She  lay  quite  still,  her  hands  beneath 
her  head  and  tears  running  down  her  cheeks.  She  felt  herself 
the  unhappiest  of  women.  Three  or  four  nights  he  came  in 
this  way. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

About  this  time  the  farmers'  sons  had  arranged  to  have  the 
so-called  "  bachelors'  ball,"  and  Jorn,  too,  received  the  usual 
invitation.  Had  it  come  fourteen  days  earlier,  he  would  have 
put  it  aside  as  a  thing  that  had  no  meaning  for  him.  Why 
should  he  go  to  a  ball?  He  would  only  have  made  himself 
ridiculous  in  his  own  eyes.  But  the  experiences  of  these  last 
eight  days  had  stirred  his  soul  to  its  depths.  These  eight  days 
had  played  havoc  in  his  young  blood.  It  was  like  a  garden 
that  lies  still  at  eventide  —  not  a  leaf  moving,  every  branch 
covered  thick  in  fairest  leaf,  and  all  the  pathways  clean  —  till 
toward  midnight  a  storm  sweeps  over  it,  and  rages  till  break  of 
day.  And  next  morning  everything  lies  there  dishevelled,  dis- 
ordered, and  desolate.  Rest  and  peace  had  turned  into  misery 
and  cruel  disquiet.  His  brothers  laughed  and  jeered  at  him 
when  tliey  heard  that  he  was  going  to  the  ball.  But  Elsbe 
greeted  the  news  with  a  shout.  "  I'm  glad,"  she  said,  "  that 
you're  getting  a  little  life  into  you  at  last.  You  were  such  a 
tiresome  fellow,  Jorn.  And  you've  got  a  nice  new  suit,  too. 
You  can  dance  with  me  first,  so  as  to  break  the  ice.  And  then 
afterward  you'll  have  to  dance  with  Lisbeth,  won't  you?" 
She  wagged  her  head  roguishly  at  him,  and  had  a  dance  around 
the  table  by  way  of  rehearsal ;  she  danced  so  long  for  him,  in 
fact,  that  at  last  she  fell  against  the  door  and  slipped  upon  her 
knees  and  burst  out  laughing.  He  looked  at  her  and  thought: 
"  Faith,  she's  a  pretty  little  thing,  all  fire  and  life;  and  she's 
always  straightforward  and  truthful  and  kind."  He  went  to 
the  dance  by  himself,  shyly,  as  though  he  were  going  on  some 
evil  errand. 

He  got  away  into  a  corner  near  the  counter,  and  stood  there 
for  hours.  Many  who  were  present  didn't  know  him  at  all, 
for  he  had  never  yet  been  in  a  public-house.  They  were  puz- 
zled, and  asked  who  he  was.     And  when  they  heard  that  he 

1 35 


136  JORN     UHL 

was  Klaus  Uhl's  youngest  son,  they  wondered,  and  said: 
"  That's  the  one  that's  said  to  be  a  dreamer."  Some  of  the 
girls  made  up  their  minds  to  dance  with  him.  They  said  to 
themselves,  "  Heigh,  heigh!  but  he's  a  bonnie  lad.  How  serious 
he  looks  with  those  eyes  of  his.  How  fine  they'll  look  when 
they're  laughing." 

He  stood  there,  unable  to  shake  off  his  heavy  thoughts.  He 
felt  vexed  at  times,  and  looked  in  the  faces  of  the  passers-by 
to  see  if  they  were  observing  him.  And  when  any  one  looked 
at  him  for  a  moment  he  imagined  to  himself  what  he  must 
be  like  in  their  eyes  —  a  lank,  ungainly  figure;  or,  again,  he 
thought  he  could  read  in  some  faces  that  his  intimacy  with  the 
Sand-lass  was  known  to  them.  Then,  again,  his  glance  grew 
proud  when  he  thought,  "  If  you  only  knew  that  that  braw, 
lithe-limbed  lass  has  kissed  me!"  He  had  often  heard  his 
brothers  and  Elsbe  criticizing  and  discussing  girls,  but  he  had 
never  taken  the  slightest  interest  in  such  conversations.  Within 
the  last  eight  days  all  that  was  changed.  He  now  remembered 
all  these  expressions  of  theirs,  and  attentively  observed  the  girls 
dancing  past  him,  finding  one  handsome  and  another  the  reverse. 

As  he  stood  there  doing  nothing,  his  own  room  flitted  before 
his  imagination,  looking  just  as  he  was  wont  to  see  it  when  he 
was  in  bed.  And  he  imagined  himself  there,  lying  in  bed 
again,  with  that  feeling  he  had  so  often  had,  of  being  so  young 
and  yet  so  full  of  cares  and  anxiety.  Then  he  saw  the  girls, 
in  all  their  fresh  bloom,  go  dancing  past  him  again,  saw  the 
beautiful  movements  of  their  limbs  and  their  happy  faces.  His 
ej'^es  sought  among  the  crowd  for  Lisbeth,  and  he  made  up  his 
mind  to  win  her.  And  this  thought  now  drove  out  all  others. 
He  pictured  to  himself  how  he  would  take  her  home,  then 
under  the  silent  lindens  he  would  take  her  in  his  arms,  just  as 
he  had  taken  the  Sand-lass.  She  shouldn't  escape  from  him 
as  she  had  done  recently  in  the  orchard.  Then  he  caught  sight 
of  Lisbeth  coming  across  the  room.  She  sat  down  near  Elsbe, 
who  had  gone  bounding  toward  her.  He  gazed  and  gazed  at 
her.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he  had  never  really  seen  her  before, 
such  a  difference  had  these  few  days  worked  in  his  nature.  His 
eyes  followed  the  blue  bow  she  was  wearing  on  the  left  shoulder 
of  her  white  dress  as  she  danced.  He  bent  forward  so  as  to 
see  her  whole  figure,  and  the  wish  grew  more  and  more  ardent 
within  him  to  clasp  her  to  his  breast  to-night.     But  something 


JORN     UHL  137 

held  him  back,  a  fceh'np;  that  he  must  not  venture  to  approach 
her  in  this  fashion,  and  lie  could  not  summon  up  courage  enough 
to  ask  her  to  dance  with  him. 

Some  of  the  couples  were  already  passing  him  on  their  way 
to  the  front  rooms  to  drink  wine  together.  They  greeted  each 
other,  and  teased  each  other,  and  talked  over  which  room  they 
were  going  to  sit  in,  and  walked  by  holding  each  other's  hands. 

He  saw  Elsbe  among  them,  coming  his  way.  She  let  go  the 
hand  of  a  young  farmer,  and  came  up  to  him.  Her  girlish 
face  was  lit  with  pleasure,  and  her  heavy  dark  hair  had  fallen 
over  her  dress.  Her  full  little  figure  was  all  agog  with  the 
excitement  of  the  dance.  "  I  say,  Jorn,  Harro  Heinsen  isn't 
here.  He  couldn't  get  leave  of  absence.  I'm  with  Hans  Jarren. 
He's  still  almost  a  mere  boy,  but  that's  no  matter.  We're  going 
to  have  a  bottle  of  wine  between  us.  Go  and  get  Lisbeth,  and 
come  and  join  us." 

He  answered,  moodily,  "  I  don't  want  to  dance." 

"  That's  because  you  haven't  enough  pluck,  my  boy.  Drink 
a  few  glasses  of  punch;    that'll  cure  you." 

She  was  off;  and  for  a  wonder  he  did  as  she  advised,  ordering 
a  glass  of  schnapps  for  himself,  and  then  another,  and  yet  an- 
other; and  when  he  had  drunk  four  glasses  of  the  fiery  liquor, 
he  found  courage  to  go  over  and  speak  to  Lisbeth. 

She  had  not  danced  much  as  j'et.  She  had  such  a  graceful, 
dainty  bearing,  and  was  wont  to  speak  so  few  words,  and  so 
quietly,  in  her  high,  sweet-toned  voice,  and  look  as  she  spoke 
at  the  person  she  addressed  with  such  strange  wondering  eyes, 
that  most  of  the  young  men  held  aloof  from  her,  being  at  a 
loss  to  know  what  to  talk  to  her  about.  Her  hair  was  ex- 
ceedingly fair,  and  lay  smooth  and  glossy,  like  raw  silk,  about 
her  dainty  head.  Her  dress  was  fresh  and  delicate  as  white 
blossoms,  and  seemed,  like  her  face,  to  have  the  delicate  hue 
of  flowers.  Slie  looked  so  virginal,  so  pure  and  dewy,  like  a 
sunny,  peaceful  Sunday  morning,  when  one's  mind  is  free  from 
care. 

He  felt  out  of  place  by  her  side.  Eight  days  ago,  despite  his 
awkwardness,  he  could  have  stood  there  proudly,  but  now  he 
was  no  longer  a  comrade  for  her.  When  they  began  dancing, 
and  he  found  it  difficult  to  get  into  the  measure  of  the  dance, 
he  looked  at  her  with  a  peculiar  laugh,  and  when  she  hesi- 
tatingly asked,  "What's  the  matter  with  you,  Jorn?"  he  said, 


138  JORN     UHL 

"  I  can't  see  any  good  in  dancing.  It's  a  stupid,  humming-top 
sort  of  business.  Let's  go  in  with  the  others  and  have  some 
wine.     You  must  learn  that,  too." 

She  drew  back  in  terror  of  him,  and  said,  "  I  never  do  that!  " 

"  Oh,  don't  be  so  prudish."  He  tried  to  drag  her  away  with 
him  by  the  arm,  but  she  tore  herself  free  with  eyes  full  of  fear. 

"  Well,  stay  where  you  are,"  he  said,  "  you  little  ninny." 

Some  who  stood  by  saw  and  heard  this,  and  laughed.  He 
left  her  standing  where  she  was,  and  went  back  to  the  counter, 
and  sat  down  again  and  drank  and  gave  himself  up  to  a  feeling 
of  sullen  defiance,  gazing  contemptuously  on  all  around  him. 

Some  who  were  by  nature  indifferent  to  feminine  society, 
and  indulged  the  other  passion,  that  of  drink,  and  others  who, 
like  him,  had  had  their  requests  refused,  came  and  joined  him; 
and  soon  he  was  the  centre  of  a  wild  group,  shouting  and  sing- 
ing. He  sat  silent  among  them,  scowling  before  him.  Then  he 
would  laugh  mockingly  to  himself  and  drink  again.  His  brother 
Hans,  who  was  already  drunk,  and  only  looked  truth  honestly 
in  the  face  when  he  was  in  this  condition,  —  when  sober  he 
was  a  great  braggart  and  self-deceiver,  —  this  fellow  came  up, 
threw  himself  into  a  chair  by  his  brother's  side,  and  began  to 
weep  aloud, 

"  I  thought  you  would  remain  a  sober  and  honest  man,  Jorn. 
I've  always  been  proud  of  you,  though  I  have  behaved  as  if  I 
despised  you.  But  now  I  see  you're  a  good-for-nothing  like  me 
and  our  brothers,  and  our  father,  too."  Then  the  younger 
brother  started  up  as  though  he  had  been  lying  behind  a  hedge 
waiting  for  the  word  "  good-for-nothing."  He  struck  his  fist 
on  the  table,  drank  and  shouted  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  and  was 
the  worst  of  the  whole  company  at  the  table.  "  y\ll  Uhls  are 
good-for-nothings,"  he  said.  "  It's  no  good  fighting  against 
nature.  The  son  of  Klaus  Uhl  can't  help  but  be  a  drunkard." 
Then  he  would  strike  the  table  again,  and  cry,  "  Who  can  beat 
the  Uhls?"  and  try  to  join  in  a  drinking-song  that  had  been 
started,  but  of  which  he  knew  neither  the  words  nor  the  tune. 

A  group  of  the  more  sensible  ones,  who  were  just  then  com- 
ing by,  noticed  the  noise,  and  one  of  them  said,  "  Isn't  that 
Jorn  Uhl?  Up  to  this  he  has  always  been  a  Simple  Simon,  and 
couldn't  say  boo  to  a  goose,  and  now  he's  grown  the  worst 
of  the  lot."  Rut  one  man  was  there,  Otto  Lindemann  was 
his  name  —  the  same  man  who  afterward  fought  at  Gravelotte. 


JORN     UHL  139 

He  has  been  police  magistrate  now  for  many  a  day,  and  is  a 
member  of  Parliament.  Even  in  those  days  he  was  a  good 
judge  of  character,  and  took  a  keen  interest  in  all  he  saw.  He 
gave  Jorn  a  slap  on  the  shoulder,  and  said,  "  No,  Jorn  Uhl,  you 
can  shout  as  loud  as  you  like.  \ou're  not  cut  out  for  a  good- 
for-nothing.  Any  one  can  see  you're  out  of  your  element  here. 
You've  got  the  makings  of  a  good  man  in  you  yet,  Jorn  Uhl," 
and  he  shook  him  by  the  shoulder  so  that  the  glasses  danced  on 
the  table. 

Toward  morning  he  staggered  home  to  the  Uhl,  and  slept 
on  till  midday. 

Wieten  came  to  his  bedside,  and  looked  at  him  with  eyes 
full  of  sorrow.  *'  For  your  sake  and  for  Eisbe's,"  she  said, 
sadly,  "  I  have  stayed  on  here  all  these  years.  For  Elsbe  I 
have  always  been  in  fear  and  trembling,  but  I  had  set  my  hopes 
on  you,  Jorn."  She  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  and 
began  to  cry.  "  I  have  had  nothing  but  misfortune  all  my 
life,"  she  said.  "  When  I  was  but  a  mere  child,  I  saw  the  whole 
house  I  lived  in  go  to  rack  and  ruin  around  me.  I  might  well 
have  hoped  after  that  that  I  had  had  sorrow  enough  to  bear 
for  one  life.  But  now  when  I'm  growing  gray,  I  have  to  wade 
through  all  this  cummer  and  grief,  and  am  fated  to  be  a  woman 
who  has  no  hope  left  on  earth.  I  shall  leave  the  world  with 
empty  hands,  and  nothing  to  show  for  my  life's  work.  I  will 
have  to  hold  out  my  empty  hands  to  God,  and  say,  '  Dear  God, 
all  that  I  loved  has  been  lost  to  me  on  the  road,  and  has  fallen 
into  the  dirt.'  "  And  so  she  went  on  wailing,  wringing  her 
hands  in  her  lap,  and  crying  bitterly. 

He  listened  with  closed  eyes,  and  by  and  by  she  went  out 
again.  He  remained  in  bed  till  toward  evening,  keeping  his 
eyes  shut  for  very  shame.  When  it  got  dusk  he  got  up  and 
walked  up  and  down  the  room.  And  when  night  came,  he 
stole  out  and  walked  hastily  toward  Ringelshorn,  to  the  house 
of  the  Sand-lass.  He  went  to  her  window  and  called  her  name. 
For  a  long  time  there  was  no  answer,  and  he  stood  there  wait- 
ing. And  suddenly  tlie  remembrance  of  his  conduct  flashed 
through  his  mind  and  broke  down  his  dogged  restraint  of  shame 
and  defiance.  The  thought  of  the  misery  of  the  whole  affair 
overwhelmed  him,  and  he  cried  and  sobbed  like  a  boy  that  has 
been  thrashed.  At  the  sound  of  his  sobbing,  she  got  up  and 
opened  the  window,  and  accused  herself  with  hard  and  bitter 


I40  JORN     UHL 

words.  "  I  have  heard  how  you  carried  on  last  night,  Jorn.  I 
am  an  unlucky  and  wretched  being.  Everything  I  touch  turns 
to  misfortune,  and  so  I  am  going  to  leave  this  place.  To-day 
I  have  sold  my  house  and  what  is  in  it,  and  to-morrow  at  dawn 
I  am  going  aw  ay  and  will  never  return." 

"Oh!  take  me  with  you!  I  cannot  go  back  home  again; 
I  cannot.  I  can  never  show  my  face  to  the  servants  on  the 
farm  again.  I'll  rather  drown  myself.  No,  you  must  take  me 
with  you." 

She  tried  to  soothe  him,  begging  him  to  remember  that  he 
was  still  a  youth,  and  that  what  had  happened  would  soon  be 
forgotten.  He  would  be  astonished,  she  told  him,  how  fast 
wounds  heal  that  people  get  when  they  are  so  young.  Just  those 
very  people  who  had  seen  him  so  noisy  and  drunken  must  be 
shown  that  he  had  something  better  in  him.  It  was  wretched 
enough  that  she  should  have  to  leave  her  home  and  go  among 
strangers.  But  he  was  stubborn,  and  maintained  that  he  already 
could  hear  his  father's  laughter  and  his  brothers'  jeers;  and 
that  Wieten  despised  him,  and  everybody  was  saying  that  Klaus 
Uhl  and  all  his  family  were  going  to  the  bad,  and  that  he,  the 
youngest,  was  the  worst  of  them  all.  And  therefore  he  would 
do  the  same  as  Fiete  Cray  had  done,  and  go  off  into  some 
foreign  country. 

She  comforted  him  with  all  sorts  of  good  advice,  and  spoke 
of  her  own  misfortune,  which  he  would  make  unbearable  if 
he  did  himself  any  wanton  injury  or  left  his  home  on  her 
account.  But  he  persisted  in  wishing  to  go  with  her,  and  she 
gave  way  so  far  as  to  say  he  might  wait  for  her  on  the 
top  of  Ringelshorn,  early  to-morrow  morning,  before  daybreak. 
"  And  you  shall  come  with  me  as  far  as  the  Haze  and  there 
we'll  say  good-by." 

It  was  a  sad  night  for  both  of  them.  In  the  light  of  her 
little  lamp  she  went  to  and  fro  in  the  house,  packing  the  few 
things  together  that  were  to  be  sent  after  her,  and  standing 
still  at  times  as  though  distracted,  and  then  returning  sorrow- 
fully to  her  work  again,  while  big  tears  ran  down  her  cheeks. 

Jorn  had  gone  home  and  put  on  his  Sunday  clothes  and  tied 
up  his  work-day  things  in  a  cloth,  and  then  sat  silent  by  the 
dark  window,  trying  in  vain  to  grasp  the  meaning  of  these 
hours.  At  one  moment  he  would  be  making  plans  for  the 
future,    the   next   he   would    feel    inclined    to   go   into   Wieten 


JORN     UHL  141 

Klook's  room  and  tell  her  what  he  was  going  to  do,  and  cry 
his  heart  out  at  her  bedside,  and  hear  her  say,  "  Stay  here, 
laddie,  everything'Il  come  right  again  u  ith  time." 

Before  daybreak  he  went  (nit  by  the  back  door,  across  the 
foals'  meadow  and  up  over  the  heath,  and  sat  waiting  on  a 
wayside  stone  till  she  came.  She  came  with  a  firm,  fresh  step, 
and  her  eyes  were  bright  and  full  of  quiet  happiness. 

"That's  right,"  she  said.  "I've  got  over  everything  else, 
and  left  it  all  behind  me."  She  pointed  to  where  the  house 
of  her  lover  lay,  at  the  end  of  the  heath.  "  And  now  it's  your 
turn,  Jorn,  and  I  sha'n't  find  that  such  a  hard  job  as  the  other. 
But  I'm  not  going  to  send  you  away  just  yet.  I'm  going  to 
give  myself  the  pleasure  of  being  with  you  a  little  longer." 
She  spoke  so  decidedly  and  with  such  gay  serenity  that  he  didn't 
dare  to  contradict  her.  But  he  made  up  his  mind  to  go  with 
her,  all  the  same,  if  it  were  to  the  very  ends  of  the  earth. 

Up  to  the  present  he  had  had  nothing  he  could  reverence. 
His  teacher  had  not  understood  how  to  make  religion  a  real 
thing  to  him.  It  was  religion  that  had  painted  over  the  fresh, 
gracious,  noble  figure  of  the  Saviour,  and  spoilt  it  in  his  eyes. 
And  he  had  no  mother.  Thus  it  came  about  that  this  warm- 
hearted lad  had  no  one  to  love.  But  when  a  youth  is  of  a 
quick,  emotional  nature,  he  will  seek  after  an  ideal,  just  as  a 
man  who  has  a  good  gun  in  his  hand  and  likes  shooting  will 
seek  for  something  to  aim  at.  Then  this  girl  came  in  his  way, 
one  who  possessed  everything  that  appeared  desirable  to  one 
of  his  age  —  before  all  courage  and  a  sound  judgment,  moral 
purity  and  great  goodness  of  heart.  In  addition  to  this,  there 
came  the  dark,  mysterious  spell  which  woman  in  her  full 
bloom  casts  upon  youth  —  a  feeling  in  which  something  of  ado- 
ration mingles  with  healthy  young  sensuousness. 

She  spoke  kindly  to  him,  just  as  she  had  done  the  evening 
before,  looking  at  him  and  nodding  to  him  pleasantly.  "  I'm 
glad  that  you're  coming  with  me  as  far  as  Haze  Wood,  so 
that  I  can  have  one  more  good  look  at  you.  You'll  make  a  fine 
man  yet,  Jorn,  see  if  you  don't.  Don't  be  afraid  that  you'll 
fall  into  your  brothers'  evil  ways.  \  ou've  such  a  firm  mouth 
and  such  deep,  grave  eyes,  and  you're  already  tall  and  lithe. 
When  I  look  at  you  I  picture  to  myself  what  you'll  be  as  a 
man.  It's  a  pity.  If  j'ou  were  five  years  older  I'd  say,  '  Come 
with  me!  '  but  that  won't  do  now.     For  if  vou  went  with  me 


142  JORN     UHL 

now,  and  afterward  came  to  full  manhood  and  had  manly 
tiioughts,  then  you'd  think  me  too  motherly,  and  wouldn't  like 
to  have  me  at  your  side.  Probably  you'd  even  think,  *  She 
had  her  wits  about  her  that  time  at  Ringelshorn,  when  she  took 
me  with  her.  She  wanted  to  have  a  young  husband  as  long 
as  she  could.'  One  thought's  as  dreadful  as  the  other.  But 
you  don't  understand  all  this  now,  but  you  will  believe  me,  for 
you  are  fond  of  me  and  know  that  I  speak  the  truth." 

Haze  Farm  lay  still,  a  black  mass  beneath  the  dark  gray 
sunless  sky.  But  gradually  the  clouds  were  tipped  with  pale 
red  from  far-off  hidden  fires,  and  as  they  went  on  farther,  talk- 
ing in  this  way,  mighty  spokes  of  golden  light  pushed  their  way 
up  behind  the  forest,  mounting  high  aloft  in  the  sky.  And  not 
long  afterward  a  great  red-glowing  axle  moved  above  the  forest 
path. 

"  Whatever  people  may  say  about  me,  you  must  never  be- 
lieve it,  Jorn.  I  am  as  pure  as  you  are.  If  we  had  remained 
together,  I  should  have  sunk  in  your  eyes.  But  if  I  go  away 
and  you  never  hear  of  me  again,  you  will  keep  me  in  kindly 
remembrance.  Yes,  Jorn,  you  will  even  place  me  higher  than 
I  am.  I  will  seem  to  you  more  beautiful  and  purer  as  time 
goes  on,  and  it  will  make  you  proud  and  strong  to  think  that 
such  a  girl  loved  you  when  you  were  still  so  young. 

"  You  mustn't  go  thinking  that  these  experiences  of  the  last 
few  days  will  spoil  you  for  good.  It  seems  as  if  we  human 
beings  cannot  go  through  life  guiltless,  as  if  such  a  thing  were 
not  to  be.  Fate  does  not  rest  till  it  has  made  us  guilty.  The 
great  thing  is,  Jorn,  for  you  to  cling  fast  to  your  faith  in  what's 
good,  in  spite  of  the  past,  and  not  to  give  up  your  love  and 
true-heartedness.  For  to  be  guilty  and  then  give  up  the  fight 
for  what's  good  means  death,  but  to  be  guilty  and  yet  go  on 
struggling  for  the  good,  that's  what  gives  human  life  it's  real 
worth.  You  have  a  strong  wnll  in  you,  Jorn,  that's  why  I 
like  you  so  much.  What  you  have  lived  through  in  these  days 
is  nothing  more  for  you  than  a  storm  is  for  a  sturdy  young  tree. 
The  storm  will  go  on  sweeping  over  you  for  a  few  weeks 
longer.  You  will  feel  unhappy  and  unsettled,  and  men  w'ill 
jeer  at  you,  no  doubt.  Then  it  will  be  over,  and  you  will  see 
how  much  stronger  you  are  and  how  much  firmer  you  stand 
on  your  feet,  and  how  much  farther  you  can  see." 

This  was  the  way  she  talked   to  him  —  in  a  quiet,  decided 


JORN     UHL  143 

voice,  walking  beside  him  briskly  and  cheerfully,  as  if  she  had 
not  a  care  in  the  world.  They  looked  at  each  other  as  they 
went  along,  and  her  hair  that  was  as  fair  as  his  was  ruddy 
with  the  morning  light  of  the  sky's  fires.  He  felt  that  this 
was  one  of  the  great  hours  of  his  life,  and  that  he  would  never 
again  have  moments  full  of  such  joy  and  such  sorrow;  for  he, 
too,  now  knew  that  they  must  part.  Beneath  her  firm,  earnest 
words  the  deeper  worth  and  the  deeper  necessity  of  tiiis  bitter 
separation  had  become  clear  to  him. 

She  pointed  to  the  sun  now  in  fierce,  silent  battle  with  im- 
mense, gray,  jagged  clouds.  "  Look,  Jorn,  it's  all  like  a  great 
gray  house  on  the  outside.  But  there's  a  glow  of  light  in  it, 
and  the  gleam  of  the  fire  is  streaming  out  at  windows  and  doors. 
The  master's  in  his  smithy,  and  the  glowing  iron  lies  broad  and 
thick  on  the  anvil.  Jorn,  lad,  I  have  no  fear  for  you.  Some- 
where or  other  happiness  must  be  waiting  for  us  yet.  .  .  , 

"  Now,  go.  Go  quickly,  Jorn.  Don't  let  us  torture  ourselves 
with  long  good-bys." 

He  stood  with  quivering  lips,  looking  at  her. 

"  It's  not  easy,  laddie."  She  kissed  him  affectionately  and 
impetuously.  "  Be  a  real  good  man,  Jorn."  She  took  another 
long  look  at  him;  her  eyes  had  a  cheery  brightness  in  them. 
"  I've  no  fears  for  you."  And  then  she  went  on  her  way,  with 
light  steps,  as  though  she  were  going  to  a  festival,  and  he  saw  her 
pass  down  the  woodland  path  and  disappear  among  the  hazels. 

For  awhile  he  stood  there  with  bated  breath  and  eyes  full  of 
tears;  then  he  walked  away  with  long,  swift  strides.  He 
found  his  bundle  by  the  hedge,  w^here  he  had  left  it,  and  put 
on  his  working  clothes  under  the  shelter  of  the  embankment. 
Then  he  ran,  with  long  leaps,  straight  across  the  heath,  sprang 
down  the  slope  and  brought  the  horses  from  the  paddock.  At 
a  quick  trot  he  came  riding  into  the  farmyard,  without  stopping 
to  go  into  the  house,  harnessed  up  the  horses,  and  then  went  off 
and  worked  the  whole  day  out  in  the  fields. 

But  he  was  not  to  get  off  so  easily.  Next  day  his  brother? 
saw  him,  and  jeered  and  laughed  at  him  for  having  been  such 
a  simpletfin  as  to  let  tlie  schoolmaster's  girl  get  the  best  of  him, 
and  for  having  afterward  behaved  as  if  he  had  taken  leave  of 
his  senses. 

By  the  afternoon,  when  he  rode  back  to  the  farm  to  change 
horses,  they  had  heard  everything.     They  told  him  that  he  had 


144  J  O  R  N     U  H  L 

everlastingly  disgraced  himself  and  his  whole  family.  It  would 
have  been  better,  they  said,  if  he  had  gone  right  away  with 
the  girl.  For  the  whole  village  was  just  buzzing  with  this 
unheard-of  story;  people  said  that  he  had  been  five  nights  with 
this  hussy  of  a  woman.  How  could  they  show  their  noses  in 
the  village  after  that?  But  as  for  him,  why,  he  was  ruined 
once  for  all  in  the  eyes  of  the  whole  country  around. 

And  that  evening,  when  he  was  taking  a  lonely  walk  through 
the  field  in  order  to  be  out  of  the  way  of  the  people  in  the 
house,  a  red  head  popped  up  in  a  ditch  by  the  wayside,  and 
Gottfried  Cray,  who  was  cutting  grass  for  his  goat,  called  to 
him,  "  I  say,  Jorn,  father  says  I'm  to  tell  you  that  one  man's 
weakness  is  women,  and  another's  is  money.  And  he  says  he 
doesn't  believe  that  you've  chosen  the  best  of  the  two,  neither. 
That's  what  I'm  to  tell  you,  Jorn." 

That  night  he  had  a  strange  dream.  He  dreamt  he  was 
once  more  sitting  on  the  stone  by  the  highroad  on  the  heath, 
where  he  had  been  sitting  yesterday  morning.  And  three  people 
came  along  the  road.  In  the  middle  was  an  old,  venerable  man, 
and  to  the  left  and  right  of  him  were  his  children,  a  young 
man  and  a  young  girl.  The  girl  was  the  one  he  had  walked 
with  yesterday.  The  young  man  he  had  never  seen  in  his  life. 
He  looked  like  a  farmer  serving  as  a  soldier,  had  a  firm,  free 
step  and  a  noble  face,  with  eyes  full  of  courage  and  goodness, 
and  indeed  bore  a  close  resemblance  to  his  sister  who  was  walk- 
ing on  the  other  side. 

As  the  three  went  past  him,  they  stopped  and  began  to  talk 
about  him  as  people  talk  in  the  presence  of  one  who  is  asleep. 
The  girl  said,  "  Shall  I  waken  him,  so  that  he  may  go  with 
me?  "  The  old  man,  with  a  strange,  deep  look  into  his  breast, 
said,  "  You  can  go  as  far  as  the  edge  of  the  forest  with  him. 
Show  him  the  stars  in  their  courses,  and  show  him  how  the 
sun  rises,  and  what  birds  those  are  down  in  the  hazel  thickets." 
The  young  man  said,  "  If  I  may,  father,  I  would  fain  go  with 
him,  too,  for  he  is  my  brother." 

"  Not  yet,"  said  the  old  man,  "  As  soon  as  he  comes  into  the 
wood  and  it  grows  dark,  then  you  can  go  with  him.  Take 
good  care  of  him,  children,  so  that  he  may  reach  home  safely, 
for  he  has  got  his  best  clothes  on."  The  girl  said,  "  Shall  we 
fetch  Lisbeth?  He's  very  fond  of  her."  "  Not  yet,"  said  the 
old  man,  "  for  he  doesn't  know  how  to  plough  properly  yet." 


JORN     UHL  145 

The  son  said,  "  Shall  we  take  his  father  with  us?  "  "  Not  yet," 
said  the  old  man,  "  he  must  carry  him  a  stafje  farther.  He 
must  go  straight  on,  pretty  slowly  for  awhile,  and  quite  alone, 
and  keep  on  shovelling  till  the  cart's  full."  He  heard  all  this 
like  one  who  comes  out  of  sleep  and  who  has  not  yet  his  wits 
about  him.  The  old  man  went  away.  He  clearly  heard  his 
steps  get  fainter  along  the  road.  The  young  man  and  the  girl 
remained  standing  near  him  by  the  stone.  He  forgot  them, 
however,  for  of  a  sudden  it  \\  as  VVieten's  voice  he  heard  saying, 
"  I  would  never  have  thought  it  possible  that  our  dear  Lord 
God  should  be  walking  in  broad  daylight  on  the  Wentorf  Heath 
road.  He  looks  like  a  Dittmarsh  farmer,  but  you  can  see  who 
it  is  by  His  walk." 

Thereupon  he  thought  he  could  fall  asleep  again  with  good 
conscience,  and  he  did  so. 

He  slept  till  VVieten  woke  him  and  said  to  him,  "  Jorn, 
laddie,  if  you  want  to  get  the  ploughing  of  the  fallow  land 
over  to-day,  it's  time  for  you  to  be  up.  1'he  sun's  already  over 
Ringelshorn." 


CHAPTER   X. 

The  experiences  of  those  few  days  affected  him  for  years  and 
years. 

Tliey  affected  him  as  a  bitterly  keen  winter,  with  wonder- 
ful nights  full  of  stars,  does  a  young  tree.  Smitten  to  the  very 
core  by  the  frost,  it  withdraws  all  its  life  into  itself,  and  goes 
on  living  in  a  silent  world  half-way  between  wake  and  sleep, 
between  weird  terrors  and  sweetest  dreams.  Little  by  little, 
when  the  sun  flatters  it,  and  comes  and  lays  his  cheek  caress- 
ingly against  the  cold  bark,  it  gradually  thaws  and  grows 
cheerful  again.  So,  too,  did  this  youth  lock  up  in  his  own 
breast  all  the  beauty  and  all  the  sadness  that  had  passed  into  his 
soul  that  early  morning  yonder  in  the  Haze  Woods.  He  closed 
both  eyes  and  lips  so  as  to  be  undisturbed  within.  He  grew 
quiet  and  taciturn.  Some,  who  were  fools,  said  that  he  was 
stupid.  But  those  who  met  him  in  those  years,  and  looked  into 
those  shy,  deep-set,  earnest  eyes,  knew,  if  they  were  men  of  any 
insight  or  fineness  of  feeling,  that  they  were  looking  as  it  were 
into  an  old  country  church,  with  its  dim  twilight  and  darkness, 
and  golden  shafts  of  light  striking  sheer  down  through  high 
windows;  and  right  at  the  back  they  saw  high,  silent  tapers 
burning  upon  the  golden  gleaming  altar. 

He  was  without  friends  and  without  books,  thrown  quite 
upon  himself.  Thus  did  he  come  to  deck  out  the  chamber  of 
his  soul  with  manifold  strange  forms,  after  his  own  heart. 

Just  as  Jan  Reepen  did,  who  was  Volkmar  Harsen's  man. 
He  was  a  philosopher  or  a  poet,  or  may  be  a  good-for-nothing, 
who  knows?  He  painted  the  whitewashed  walls  of  his  bare 
room  from  top  to  bottom,  finally  lying  on  his  stomach  or 
standing  upon  a  chair,  with  everything,  as  he  said,  that  there 
is  in  the  world  —  of  every  species  one.  There  stood  man  and 
every  kind  of  beast.  He  even  attempted  to  portray  the  ele- 
ments, and  the  heavenly  bodies,  and  the  good  and  wicked  angels, 

146 


JORN     UHL  147 

and  the  Holy  Trinity.  And  for  each  and  everything  he  found 
a  distinctive  form.  It  has  never  been  clearly  found  out  what 
was  in  him,  for  he  died  of  Intlanimation  of  the  brain,  after 
talking  about  his  pictures,  all  that  last  night.  In  wild  and 
beautiful  phantasies. 

And  In  the  same  motley  did  Jorn  Uhl  now  fit  out  the  cham- 
bers of  his  mind. 

And  many  a  farmer's  son  there  Is  in  Germany  who  has  to 
go  through  college  and  university  in  obedience  to  the  will  of 
some  austere  father,  and  finds  it  bitterly  hard  to  have  to  leave 
the  old  farm  when  the  vacation  Is  at  an  end!  It  will  even 
happen  that  the  farmer  finds  his  great  son  blubbering  to  him- 
self In  some  remote  corner  of  the  stables,  and  that  he  has  to 
use  the  whip  to  rid  the  farm  of  him.  Back  at  school,  sitting 
at  his  desk,  for  days  he  Is  present  only  In  body;  his  spirit  is 
still  wandering  among  the  great  barns  and  halls  of  the  home- 
stead. The  grumpy  tones  of  his  religious  Instructor  —  for 
many  religious  instructors  are  grumpy  when  they  ought  to  be 
cheery  —  make  him  prick  up  his  ears  and  think  of  the  good 
fat  swine  at  home;  and  when  the  rector  thumps  the  desk  to 
show  the  measured  beat  of  some  Latin  ode,  he'll  think  on  the 
beat  of  the  flails  on  the  threshing-floors  In  winter.  If  Fate 
means  well  by  him  it  will  set  him  down  afterward  in  some 
place  where  he  has  the  country  near  at  hand,  and  where  he  can 
take  a  walk  of  a  Sunday  with  his  son's  hand  In  his,  and  stand 
at  the  hedge-gate,  and  in  winter  go  through  the  full  stable  of 
some  farmer  friend,  who  despises  his  talk  about  farming,  and 
will  think  to  himself,  "  Why  didn't  my  father  let  me  be  a 
king?     As  it  is,  I  have  to  be  a  mere  servant." 

But  If  Fate  is  hard  on  him,  If  he  must  earn  his  daily  bread 
cooped  up  between  the  high  walls  of  some  great  city,  he  will 
try  in  his  distress  .to  start  a  little  farm  for  himself,  and  begin 
with  a  couple  of  pigeons,  and  then  buy  a  hutch  for  a  few 
rabbits,  and  at  last  he'll  come  home  with  a  goat,  and  get  into 
hot  water  with  the  landlord  and  have  all  sorts  of  worry. 

There  are  farmers'  sons  again  —  and  In  this  DIttmarsh  land, 
and  up  here  among  this  broody  race  of  Frisians  and  Saxons,  they 
are  not  so  rare  —  who  have  a  strong  impulse  toward  learning 
and  knowledge,  but  are  obliged  to  follow  the  Iron  will  of  their 
father  and  stay  at  home  to  plough.  These  youths  are  almost 
unhappler  than  the  others.     "  Father,"  says  the  lad,  "  I  want 


148  JORN     UHL 

to  study."  But  the  farmer  replies,  "  You  shall  study  farming." 
For  the  father  is  frightened  of  the  expense  of  sending  his  son 
to  college,  or  he  thinks,  perchance,  that  a  farmer's  life  is  the 
best  thing  in  the  world ;  or  else  he  thinks  it's  a  boy's  whim  that 
will  pass  by  like  a  wearisome  rainy  day  if  you  give  it  time;  or 
he  has  a  grudge  against  books.  "Tut!  lad!  What  are  you 
thinking  about?  Wishing  to  moon  over  yon  books  all  the  day? 
Hold  your  tongue,  I  say,  and  go  over  to  the  smith's  and  just 
ask  if  the  ploughshare's  ready." 

And  so  the  lad  has  to  grow  up  on  the  farm,  in  the  stables, 
and  behind  the  plough;  to-day  with  a  hay-fork,  to-morrow 
with  the  reins  in  his  hands  the  whole  day  long. 

And  during  his  work  his  restless  spirit  begins  to  fret  and 
fume  and  drive  him  to  and  fro.  Like  some  captive  panther, 
full  of  the  remembrance  of  its  forest  freedom,  that  paces  with- 
out a  moment's  peace  up  and  down,  up  and  down,  behind  the 
bars  of  its  cage,  comfortless  in  its  vain  despair,  his  soul  knows 
no  rest,  gazing  ceaselessly  between  the  palings  of  the  fence  that 
imprisons  him,  gazing  and  longing.  Left  without  a  teacher  or 
guide,  his  mind  muses  and  broods,  and  hutches  with  the  most 
strange  and  crack-brained  fancies.  This  race  of  Frisians  has  a 
peculiar  gift  and  bent  for  philosophy  and  mathematics,  and  it's 
not  long  ere  the  adventurous  skater  comes  to  smooth,  bare  ice, 
and  likely  enough  finds  places  where  under  the  dark  transparent 
covering  yawn  green  and  immeasurable  depths,  in  which  he 
sees  multitudes  of  forms  he  can  neither  master  nor  explain. 
Then  he'll  go  on  a  shy,  unwilling  errand  to  the  bookseller's  in 
the  town,  and  ask  for  a  book  about  "  Mankind,  how  did  it 
have  its  beginnings,  and  what's  to  be  the  end  of  it?"  or 
"  Whether  there's  a  book  about  the  calculation  of  all  sorts  of 
dimensions  and  the  construction  of  the  universe."  Then  he'll 
sit  late  into  the  night  poring  over  the  book  by  the  dim  light 
of  the  stable  lamp,  and  puzzle  his  brain,  and  think  he  under- 
stands it,  living  in  chaotic  worlds  of  thought,  and  getting  deeper 
and  deeper  into  the  bog.  Those  who  live  round  about  him 
don't  understand  him,  and  his  own  brother  calls  him  "  the 
Latin-smitten  ploughman."  He  has  no  ej^es  for  the  girls  who 
are  coming  into  blossom  around  him,  and  who  cast  their 
glances  on  him,  or  if  he  puts  out  his  hand  to  catch  one  of  them 
some  day,  he  is  as  awkward  about  it  as  a  puppy  that  has  got 
into  a  fowl-yard.     His  eyes  are  turned  more  and  more  to  what 


JORN     UHL  14^ 

is  within  him.  For  there  he  can  see  such  stranp;e  things.  At 
last  he  sees  there  clearly  written  in  staring  red,  the  words, 
"  Seek  Death.  Thy  place  is  not  here  among  men."  Then 
people  bring  the  body  of  the  farmer's  son  to  the  grave  with 
much  funeral  pomp,  according  to  the  size  of  his  farmer's  farm, 
and  neither  trouble  themselves  nor  wonder  much  more  about 
him,  but  sa\',  "  lie  just  went  clean  daft  wi'  thae  ideas  o'  his!  " 
And  while  still  in  the  churchyard  they  begin  talking  about 
rents  and  the  price  of  wheat  again. 

A  stranger  had  come  to  the  Uhl,  asking  after  remnants  of 
antique  furniture.  He  chanced  to  see  the  old  chest  standing 
in  the  stable,  and  made  an  offer  for  it,  but  was  sent  away. 
Jorn,  who  had  noticed  what  covetous  eyes  the  dealer  had  cast 
upon  the  box,  now  examined  it  for  the  first  time  in  his  life, 
and  as  he  liked  the  carvings  and  workmanship  of  it,  he  cleaned 
it  up  one  afternoon,  put  the  lock  in  order,  and  brought  it  into 
his  room  and  laid  his  Sunday  clothes  in  it.  He  also  kept  his 
psalter  in  it,  and  a  well-thumbed  old  reading-book  of  Klaus 
Harms,  as  well  as  another  old  book  with  yellowed  and  tattered 
cover  —  Littrow's  "  Wonders  of  the  Heavens."  This  book  had 
come  from  Ha/.e  Farm  with  Jorn's  mother,  and  was  a  kind 
of  popular  astronomy.     Nothing  else  was  kept  in  the  chest. 

When  Jorn  had  finished  work  for  the  day,  he  would  sit  in 
the  old  Saxon  armchair  with  its  straw-woven  seat,  and  put  his 
legs  up  on  the  chest  and  light  his  short  pipe,  and  look  around 
his  little  room  with  its  bare,  whitewashed  walls  and  little 
looking-glass,  and  gaze  through  the  window  into  the  apple 
orchard  and  puff  away  at  his  pipe,  drawing  a  very  long,  grave 
face  the  while,  lor  was  he  not  at  work  completing  the  building 
and  fitting  out  of  his  soul? 

He  had  no  thoughts  of  marrying.  Tut!  Tut!  all  that  was 
now  past.  He  had  gathered  more  experience  than  many  an 
old  man  in  that  branch  of  wisdom.  He  thought  to  himself, 
though,  that  it  must  be  a  beautiful  thing  to  win  for  one's  self 
one  of  these  remarkable  creatures  with  their  melting  eyes  and 
loose,  lithe  limbs;  but  such  a  thing  was  not  for  him.  He  was 
just  a  strange  and  wonderful  exception.  It  was  sad  to  confess 
it,  but  it  was  true.  For  had  it  not  been  confirmed  by  his 
experience?  The  girl  who  had  been  his  comrade  in  his  boy- 
hood was  now  a  stranger  to  him ;  she  had  looked  down  patron- 


ISO  JORN     UHL 

izingly  on  him,  and  had  run  away  from  him  with  fear  in  her 
eyes,  when  she  had  read  in  his  face  the  feelings  that  the  other 
had  aroused  in  him.  But  this  other  one,  before  whom  he  had 
stood  in  such  wild  commotion,  full  of  hot,  new-born  desires,  had 
turned  into  a  saint.  His  blood  rushed  to  his  face  with  shame 
when  he  thought  of  these  two  girls.  And  he  resolved  never 
again  to  sue  for  a  woman's  love.  He  made  up  his  mind  never 
again  to  enter  that  specially  woful  domain  of  human  life ;  he 
would  remain  a  bachelor  all  his  days.  "  Thiess  is  one,  too," 
he  said.     "  It  runs  in  the  family." 

So  that  was  done  with,  then,  once  for  all.  The  daughter 
of  a  neighboring  farmer  sometimes  came  by  with  the  milking 
yoke  on  her  shoulders  when  he  was  out  a-field  with  his  team. 
She  always  wished  him  good  day,  and  would  fain  have  loitered 
for  a  word  or  two  with  him.  Of  a  Sunday  afternoon  she 
would  come  to  see  Elsbe,  and  pass  through  the  apple  orchard 
underneath  his  window  and  nod  to  him,  and  look  at  him  with 
kindly,  sensible  eyes.  She  was  a  comely,  cheery  lass.  But 
when  he  saw  her  coming  he  would  knit  his  brows  like  one 
who  has  hard  and  knotty  problems  to  think  about,  or  like  a 
man  of  threescore  years  or  so  who  has  no  time  and  no  interest 
for  girls.  And  yet  at  times  it  would  occur  to  him :  "  Strange, 
what  a  firm  brisk  step  she  has;  "  or,  of  another  girl,  "  She  is  tall 
and  slim,  and  quick  and  sprightly  as  a  three-year-old  mare;" 
or  of  another,  "  Bonnie  she  looks,  with  her  hips  a-swing  beneath 
the  milking  yoke."  But  not  a  jot  farther.  Away  with  the 
thought,  away  with  it  from  his  breast!  Those  are  the  creatures 
that  bring  a  man  nothing  but  unrest  and  loss  of  time,  and  the 
jeers  of  his  fellows. 

But  once  or  twice  this  happened  to  him  —  both  times  it  was 
on  a  Sunday.  He  had  spent  the  whole  afternoon  doing  noth- 
ing, and  toward  evening  had  gone  for  a  walk  across  the  fields. 
And  somehow  his  thoughts  had  got  out  of  his  control,  and 
made  off  to  the  Sand-lass.  He  lived  through  it  all  again.  He 
was  so  deep  in  his  dreaming  and  saw  the  beautiful,  tall  form 
and  her  serene  eyes  and  heard  her  deep  voice  all  so  clearly, 
that  he  didn't  come  back  to  reality  till  he  all  of  a  sudden 
heard  his  own  voice  and  noticed  that  he  was  speaking  to  her 
with  swift,  persuasive  words.  He  was  standing  leaning  against 
a  hedge,  and  had  no  idea  how  he  had  got  there.  He  pulled  him- 
self together,  and  the  blood  rushed  to  his  face.     For  the  rest  of 


JORN     UHL  151 

the  evening,  however,  his  peace  of  mind  was  gone.  He  jumped 
on  a  horse  and  rode  to  the  Foreland  after  the  foals  that  were 
grazing  there,  and  came  back,  and  walked  through  the  apple 
orchard,  going  from  tree  to  tree,  feeling  the  trunks  and  scraping 
moss  from  the  bark  and  looking  up  into  the  branches  and 
smiling;  and  then  he  felt  himself  unhappy  again,  and  wanted 
something,  and  knew  not  what,  and  felt  ashamed  of  himself,  and 
thought  of  going  away  out  into  the  wide  world  and  plunging 
into  some  great  whirl  of  life,  into  some  task  or  fight,  that  he 
might  escape  from  this  thing  which  was  bringing  him  into  such 
turmoil  and  discord. 

And  in  the  night  he  could  not  tell  whether  he  was  dreaming 
or  awake,  the  girl  came  into  his  room  in  the  full  splendor 
of  her  beauty  and  strength,  as  she  had  bent  over  the  table  to 
him  that  night,  and  just  as  then,  she  now  again  came  close  to 
him,  and  v\ as  tender  and  loving,  and  told  him  of  her  lo\e  and 
longing  for  him.  Then  he  kissed  her,  in  a  kiss  so  long  and 
vehement,  a  kiss  more  and  more  glowing  and  sweet,  till  the 
excitement  woke  him.  Then  he  felt  full  of  shame  of  himself. 
For  days  he  went  about  his  work  \\'ith  scowling  face,  and  spoke 
with  no  one  and  was  specially  unkind  in  his  manner  toward 
Elsbe. 

And  one  day  when  he  had  brought  a  load  of  corn  into  town, 
and  was  on  the  way  through  the  street  to  the  dealer's  office, 
he  saw,  in  a  paper  shop,  a  small  picture  of  two  young  women 
sitting  right  and  left  on  the  side  of  a  marble  well.  They  were 
tall  and  powerfully  built,  and  even  the  one  that  was  almost 
naked  had  a  fine  and  good-natured  face.  There  was  something 
high-bred  and  noble  in  their  looks,  and  he  could  not  understand 
how  they  had  come  to  let  themselves  be  painted  in  this  guise. 
Under  the  picture  he  saw  written  in  Latin  letters,  "  Sacred  and 
Profane  Love,"  by  Titian.  For  a  long  time  he  stood  looking 
at  it,  and  then  made  up  his  mind  and  went  into  the  shop, 
where  to  his  no  slight  embarrassment  he  found  a  young  woman 
who  asked  what  he  wanted.  He  assumed  a  proud  and  careless 
look  and  pointed  to  the  picture  with  the  end  of  his  whip,  and 
finally  purchased  it  for  a  few  shillings.  He  hid  it  carefully, 
as  a  great  treasure,  between  his  coat  and  vest,  and  took  it  home 
and  put  it  away  right  at  the  bottom  of  the  old  chest ;  and  of 
a  Sunday  afternoon,  when  he  sat  smoking  and  thinking  in  his 
room,  he  would  take  it  out  and  place  it  on  the  lid  of  the  box 


152  JORN     UHL 

opposite  where  he  was  sitting,  and  gaze  at  it  untiringly,  and 
was  always  in  fear  lest  some  one  should  come  in  and  discover 
his  secret. 

Jorn  Uhl  was  done  with  women-folk  then,  but  he  found  it 
no  such  easy  matter  to  be  done  with  the  world.  For  the  world 
is  a  lady  a  man  cannot  turn  his  back  upon  so  easily.  He  may 
turn  away,  but  she  is  still  there;  he  turns  in  the  other  direction, 
and  there  she  is  again.  He  may  shut  his  eyes,  but  she'll  buzz 
and  screech  in  his  ears;  he  may  close  his  ears,  but  she'll  play  her 
pranks  and  cut  her  capers  before  his  eyes.  He  must  choose 
which  side  he'll  be  on,  whether  he'll  keep  peace  with  her  or 
pick  a  quarrel  with  her.  As  for  Jorn,  his  age  and  his  mood  at 
this  time,  as  well  as  the  argumentative  stock  to  which  he  be- 
longed, impelled  him  to  take  sides  against  her. 

"  Good  dame,"  he  said,  "  you're  old  and  you're  ugly.  Every- 
thing about  you,  from  the  crown  of  your  head  to  the  sole  of 
your  foot,  is  cracked  and  crazy.  I'd  have  you  know  that  I'm 
Jorn  Uhl  of  Wentorf."  .  .  .  He  had  drawn  his  eyebrows  down 
into  such  a  scowl  that  he  couldn't  see  the  greatness  and  wonder 
of  things;  and  carried  his  nose  so  high  that  he  lost  sight  of 
all  their  beauty. 

No  living  thing,  whether  it  crept  or  flew,  whether  it  pranked 
in  gay  robes  or  sat  in  mourning,  whether  it  wore  coat  or 
petticoat,  whether  it  was  round  or  square,  escaped  his  judg- 
ment. There  was  not  a  thing  in  the  world,  be  it  bird  or 
beast,  roimd  or  square,  grave  or  gay,  male  or  female,  that  could 
escape  his  stern  and  righteous  censorship.  And  therefore  he  saw, 
looming  in  the  distance,  the  time  when  he  would  have  to  con- 
fess that  the  world  had  no  place  in  it  for  such  as  he.  A  clean 
separation  once  for  all  between  him  and  the  world  he  resolved 
was  the  only  thing  possible.  In  the  solitude  of  his  own  room 
and  of  Wieten's  quarters,  he  made  up  his  mind  to  be  a  servant, 
for  the  present  to  his  father,  then  afterward  to  his  brothers,  but 
to  make  them  pay  him  a  yearly  wage.  What  he  earned  in  this 
way  he  was  going  to  put  into  the  town  Savings  Bank,  of  which 
he  had  heard  said  it  was  thoroughly  safe.  Afterward,  when  he 
was  old,  he  would  buy  a  lonely  little  farm  and  live  with  Wieten, 
far  from  the  turmoil  of  the  world,  till  he  died. 

Now,  if  the  world  and  all  the  arrangements  of  Nature  and 
of  man  found  no  favor  in  Jorn's  eyes,  it  could  not  be  expected 


J  0  R  N     U  H  L  153 

that  He  who  had  made  the  heavens  and  the  earth  would  get  off 
lightly  either. 

Granted  that  Jorn  went  to  church.  He  had  done  so  for  the 
last  six  months;  for  he  saw  that  the  thrifty,  the  sober,  and 
the  people  who  were  a  little  old-fashioned  did  so,  and  he  had 
made  up  his  mind  just  to  be  a  man  after  that  style,  too.  Old 
Dreyer  went  to  church,  and  he,  as  every  one  knew,  had  begun 
as  a  farm-laborer,  and  was  now  a  wealthy  man.  And  Reder, 
the  old  plumber,  went  to  church,  though  he  had  the  name  of 
being  hard-hearted  and  miserly;  but  it  was  to  his  credit  that 
he  still  wore  the  coat  he  had  gone  to  the  sacrament  in  fifty 
years  before.  And  Thomas  Lucht's  wife,  who  left  the  com- 
mon bedroom  in  which  she  and  her  children  slept,  when  her 
husband  came  home  from  his  wild  drinking  and  card-playing. 
She,  too,  sat  every  Sunday  with  tight-pressed  lips  in  her  family 
pew.  These  and  others  like  them,  venerable  and  thrifty  folk, 
went  to  church.  Hut  the  young  people,  and  the  wild  spirits, 
and  those  wiio  liked  to  show  off,  did  not.  Jorn  Uhl  wished  to 
feel  himself  among  the  decent  folk,  and  he  wanted  to  show  it 
somehow  in  outward  form,  that's  why  he  went  to  church. 

He  went  to  church,  but  found  it  mortally  weary.  In  the 
first  place  he  took  offence,  and  could  not  get  over  it,  at  the 
fact  that  the  man  who  preached  in  the  church  on  Sundays  was 
known  in  all  the  country  round  as  a  hard  drinker  and  in- 
veterate card-player.  Although  Dreyer  had  said  to  him,  "  It 
doesn't  matter  about  the  man,  Jorn,  or  the  sort  of  life  he  leads, 
so  much  as  whether  he  preaches  God's  word  truly  or  not." 
But  Jorn  couldn't  persuade  himself  to  believe  it.  Apart  from 
that,  however,  it  was  this  so-called  Gospel  that  the  sturdy  little 
pastor  proclaimed  that  went  rigiit  against  the  grain  with  him. 
For  tlie  preacher  said :  "  All  that  we  do  and  all  that  we  say 
is  evil  from  our  youth  up,  and  whosoever  puts  his  faith  in  his 
life  and  his  works  is  everlastingly  damned."  And  "  Glory  be 
to  the  Trinity  for  ever  and  ever,"  and  "  God's  Son,  born  from 
everlasting,"  and  "  Only  believe  and  thou  shalt  be  saved."  That 
was  about  the  contents  of  the  sermons  he  gave. 

Jorn  Uhl  listened  attentively  from  his  seat,  and  failed  entirely 
to  discover  any  connection  between  these  doctrines  and  the 
wild  doings  in  the  village,  or  his  own  ploughing  and  harrowing. 
He  wondered  to  himself  that  God's  word  could  be  so  thoroughly 
unpractical.     According  to  his  idea,  it  would  have  to  run,  one 


154  JORN     UHL 

verse  after  the  other,  something  like  this:  "A  farmer  who 
doesn't  weed  the  docks  and  thistles  out  of  his  land  shall  not 
be  saved."  "  He  who  by  hard  work  and  an  honest,  sober  life 
doubles  his  property,  will  come  out  top."  "  For  every  evening 
that  a  young  man  wastes  at  the  public-house,  he  must  lose  a 
year  in  heaven."  And  so  on.  That's  the  way  he  would  fain 
have  rewritten  the  Bible. 

Sometimes  when  the  little  parson  read  from  the  altar  or 
from  the  pulpit  the  allotted  portions  of  Scripture,  in  a  chant- 
ing, wavy  sort  of  voice,  Jorn  seemed  to  hear  something  different 
from  what  he  heard  in  the  sermon  that  followed.  He  seemed 
to  be  listening  to  some  old  deep  wisdom  and  great  strong 
thoughts  plucked  right  out  of  the  heart  of  human  life.  He  w^as 
like  a  man  lying  on  the  edge  of  a  forest  surrounded  by  the 
humming  and  twitter  of  birds  and  insects,  and  hearing  far  off 
in  the  depths  of  the  wood  a  fountain  flowing  with  its  full,  clear, 
heavy  note  of  waters.  And  with  the  unwisdom  of  his  youth 
and  his  natural  heaviness  of  mind  it  never  occurred  to  him  to 
read  through  St.  Mark  or  St.  Luke  and  see  whether  the  little 
parson  wasn't  suppressing  one  part  of  the  gospel  or  adulterating 
another. 

"  You  must  always  sit  in  the  same  seat,  Jorn !  "  old  Dreyer 
had  said.  "  For  sixty  years  I  have  every  Sunday  sat  in  my 
place  in  the  third  row,  not  counting  the  year  I  was  away  on 
service  in  the  Danish  war." 

So  Jorn  Uhl  sat  there  every  Sunday  in  the  same  place.  And 
so  also  it  came  about  that  the  only  reason  why  Jorn  thought 
anything  of  God  was  because  it  seemed  to  him  that  God  had 
something  old-fashioned  about  him. 

In  the  spring  of  the  following  year,  however,  something  took 
place  that  was  like  a  refreshing  fall  of  dew  upon  the  world 
within  him.  And  it  was  good  that  it  was  so.  For  his  finer 
nature  was  in  danger  of  perishing  of  drought,  like  young  pas- 
tureland  in  April  when  the  east  wind  has  been  blowing  for  four 
weeks  at  a  stretch. 

It  happened  in  this  way: 

At  the  time  when  the  fields  were  being  emptied  of  their  corn, 
certain  hounds  went  wild.  Their  owners  had  neither  been 
sober  nor  clever  enough  to  bring  up  even  a  dog.    And  so  these 


JORN     UHL  155 

dogs  passed  their  time  wild  in  the  fields,  and  the  farmers  to 
whom  they  belonged  passed  theirs  at  the  inn. 

It  soon  became  known  that  sheep  had  been  torn  to  pieces 
and  fowl-yards  harried.  The  workmen's  children  who  had  to 
go  along  the  Kirchensteig  on  their  way  to  school  walked  to 
and  fro  in  fear  and  trembling.  One  day  one  of  them  came 
breathless  and  terror-stricken  into  the  village,  saying  the  dogs 
had  been  after  her.  Nothing  was  done,  however,  to  put  a  stop 
to  the  evil ;  the  owners  of  the  dogs  laughed,  and  nobody  ventured 
to  take  action  against  them,  for  they  were  the  foremost  people 
in  the  village,  were  members  of  the  Savings  Bank  committee, 
and  could  repay  both  good  and  evil  that  was  done  them.  Thus 
it  happened  that  one  Sunday  morning  the  Kamp  children,  who 
were  going  along  the  Kirchensteig,  saw  the  dogs  worrying  a 
calf  belonging  to  one  of  the  Kamp  workmen.  The  workman's 
children  began  to  weep  and  cry,  saying  that  they  had  nothing 
but  this  one  calf,  and  got  two  big  lads  to  go  with  them  to 
call  the  dogs  off.  But  the  boys  were  afraid.  So  the  two 
little  children,  in  their  terror  lest  their  calf  should  be  killed, 
advanced  alone,  thinking  in  their  childish  way  that  their  father 
would  beat  them  unless  they  saved  the  calf.  When  the  children, 
sobbing  with  fear,  came  near  them,  the  hounds  did  not  make 
of^,  but  came  toward  the  little  girl  who  was  trying  to  get  near 
the  calf  and  kept  on  clapping  her  hands  and  calling  to  it  with 
terms  of  childish  affection.  When  the  two  big  boj's  saw  this 
their  courage  left  them  and  they  ran  away,  shouting,  toward  the 
village,  which  was  a  long  way  off.  The  two  children,  however, 
stood  there  alone,  and  the  dogs  began  to  play  with  them.  They 
crouched,  sprang  forward,  and  then  drew  back  and  crouched 
again,  and  tugged  at  the  children's  clothes  till  one  of  the 
children  fell  and  something  terrible  seemed  about  to  happen. 

Just  then  Jorn  Uhl  came  out  of  a  neighboring  bean-field  in 
his  Sunday  clothes,  and  caught  sight  of  what  was  taking  place. 
He  clenched  his  teeth  and  thought,  "These  cursed  louts! 
Has  it  come  to  this,  that  the  village  children  are  to  be  eaten 
by  their  dogs?"  His  face  flushed  with  anger  and  his  eyes 
were  on  fire.  Running  with  long  strides  he  hurried  to  the  spot. 
One  dog  made  off.  The  other  in  fury,  with  hair  bristling  with 
rage,  showed  fight,  and  got  the  full  force  of  Jorn's  foot  in  its 
side.  Howling,  and  with  foaming  mouth,  it  sprang  at  him, 
just  as  he  was  stooping  toward  the  child.     The  brute  struck 


156  JORN     UHL 

him  just  as  he  was  straightening  himself,  and,  as  he  had  no 
good  hold  on  anything,  its  weight  and  impetus  brought  him  to 
his  knees.  With  a  iirm  grip  of  his  big,  bony  hands  he  pressed 
the  furious  brute  to  his  breast,  and  with  the  utmost  effort  kept 
it  from  his  throat,  which  it  was  wildly  struggling  to  reach, 
contorting  its  body  fearfully  and  foaming  at  the  mouth.  Jorn's 
face  was  white,  and  it  was  only  with  extreme  difficulty  that 
he  held  his  own.  As  soon  as  he  felt  himself  firm  on  his  knees, 
he  uttered  a  wild  cry,  clutched  the  hound's  throat  with  a  chok- 
ing grip,  bending  his  whole  body  forward,  and,  in  his  rage,  broke 
its  neck.  For  many  a  year  afterward  this  deed  was  talked  about 
by  the  villagers.  He  himself,  too,  in  later  years,  when  happier 
circumstances  had  brought  the  genial  Thicssen  side  of  his  nature 
to  light,  was  fonder  of  speaking  about  this  adventure  near  the 
bean  stubble  than  about  that  other  terrible  experience  —  the 
day  when  he  stood  bent  over  the  gun-carriage,  hurling  pieces 
of  jagged  iron  against  people  who,  as  he  added  in  a  softer 
voice,  had  done  no  harm  to  him  personally  and  were  no  worse 
than  himself. 

When  the  story  was  brought  to  the  farm,  next  day,  by  the 
school-children,  he  noticed  with  what  eyes  of  wonder  the  milk- 
maid looked  at  him.  And  the  stableman  related  that  the  lads 
in  the  school  playground  had  had  a  great  argument  as  to  how 
Jorn  had  managed  to  kneel  and  clutch  the  dog  as  he  had  done, 
and  everywhere  groups  of  boys  were  standing  around  one  of 
their  fellows,  who  was  on  his  knees,  showing  the  others  the 
grip.  And  the  teacher  had  had  some  trouble  in  saving  his 
yellow-haired  Fido  from  their  clutches. 

A  week  later  he  again  went  across  the  fields  to  the  Kirchen- 
steig,  and,  walking  toward  the  church,  he  overtook  the  Kamp 
children,  who  were  also  on  their  way.  They  stepped  aside  from 
the  path  into  the  grass  and  looked  up  at  him.  But  the  little  girl 
whom  he  had  saved  put  her  hand  mutely  into  his,  and  went 
trotting  along  by  his  side  as  far  as  the  church  door  without 
saying  a  word.  He  went  in  and  heard  a  sermon  about  faith,  and 
how  so-called  good  works  and  a  so-called  honest  life  were 
mostly  suspicious  things,  a  mere  brilliant  sort  of  vice. 

As  he  was  leaving  the  church,  Rose,  the  old  tailor,  a  man 
renowned  for  his  gift  of  silence  all  over  the  country-side,  came 
hastening  after  him.  He  limped  along  at  Jorn's  side,  for  he 
was  already  very  old,  made  a  few  remarks  about  the  weather, 


JORN     UHL  157 

then  pulled  up  suddenly,  and  began,  in  his  shy  way,  to  fumble 
his  soft  fingers,  tailor-fashion,  over  the  front  of  his  companion's 
coat  and  vest. 

"  Bring  the  jacket  in  to  me,  Jorn,"  he  said,  "  you  can  see  the 
marks  of  the  beastic's  claws  still  on  it.  I'll  put  it  to  rights 
with  a  little  silk.  I'll  do  it  for  nothing,  Jorn.  .  ,  .  But,  bless 
me,  what  was  it  I  v\as  going  to  say,  Jorn?  It  doesn't  so  much 
matter  about  the  jacket,  I  was  thinkin',  Jcirn,  as  about  the 
heart  that  beats  under  it,  and  that  must  just  belong  to  (lod." 

Jorn  Uhl  did  not  know  what  to  say  to  this;  for  where  do 
mere  laymen,  I'd  like  to  know,  talk  about  such  things  in  our 
country?  I'o  talk  about  God  and  the  soul  is  the  function  of 
the  parson  in  his  pulpit. 

"  I  wanted  to  help  the  children,"  Jorn  said,  "  I  was  so  furious 
with  those  accursed  dogs." 

"  You  must  just  do  everything  in  God's  name,  Jorn,  laddie, 
for  His  service." 

That  was  beyond  Jorn  Uhl's  comprehension.  "  To  tell  you 
the  truth,  I  only  thought  of  the  little  mite  that  was  standing  in 
the  Held  screaming  like  one  possessed." 

"  This  time  ye  did  what  was  right  on  your  own  hook,  laddie, 
and  that  was  fine.  But  if  ye  want  to  do  what's  right  and 
good  your  whole  life  long,  ye'll  have  just  to  shake  hands  wi' 
the  Almighty,  and  do  it  out  o'  love  o'  Him.  Ye  must  not  do 
it  out  o'  anger  wi'  the  dogs,  or  because  ye  can't  bear  to  see  the 
children's  terror,  but  because  God  was  standing  beside  ye  and 
looking  at  ye  and  sayin',  '  Lend  a  hand,  Jorn  Uhl,'  '  Save  the 
child!  '    *  Grip  thae  dogs,  Jorn  Uhl.'  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  .  .  .  But  it  seems  to  me  all  one  whether  I  do 
it  with  or  without  God." 

"  Not  by  a  long  way,  Jorn.  .  .  .  For  see  here,  now:  If  ye 
do  it  on  your  own  responsibility  ye'll  be  proud,  and  fancy  your- 
self, and  become  cocked  up  and  perhaps  a  bit  of  a  fool.  Neither 
will  ye  always  do  what's  good  nor  just  hit  on  what's  right, 
neither.  And  ye  won't  have  any  real  joy  o'  what  ye've  done, 
because  ye  haven't  done  it  for  His  sake,  but  for  your  own  and 
other  folk's.  But  if  ye  put  yourself  on  God's  side  and  do  every- 
thing for  His  sake,  then  ye'll  be  fine  and  humble,  and  ye'll 
laugh  and  rejoice  and  know  for  certain  when  yc're  doing  what's 
right,  and  ye'll  have  understanding  for  everything,  and  will  be 
able  to  defy  and  to  rejoice  at  the  whole  world.     Our  hearts 


158  JORN     UHL 

on  God's  side,   and   our   hands  against   the  dogs,  and   against 
everything  bad  i'  the  world  ;  —  that's  Chreestianity." 

''  Well,  there's  some  sense  in  that,"  said  Jorn,  "  to  stand  by 
God  and  do  good  ;   it's  not  a  bad  idea,  it  seems  to  me ;  but  .  .  ." 

"  It's  what  the  Saviour  did,  always  on  God's  side  and  always 
against  the  dogs.  Only  that  at  last  there  were  too  many  dogs 
against  Him,  and  they  dragged  Him  down  and  tore  Him  to 
pieces.  What  else  did  He  try  to  do  all  His  life  long,  Jorn,  than 
to  be  on  God's  side  and  fight  for  the  good  through  thick  and 
thin?" 

"  That's  the  thing,"  Jorn  assented,  "  so  to  say  in  league  with 
God." 

"  For  faith  and  loyalty's  sake,  Jorn." 

"  Just  so,  for  faith  and  lo3'alty's  sake  to  take  sides  against 
everything  bad,  against  dogs  and  idlers,  against  drunkards  and 
bad  ploughmen." 

"  Right,  laddie,  and  first  of  all  against  one's  own  short- 
comings." 

"  That's  clear,"  said  Jorn  Uhl. 

"  D'ye  see?  "  said  the  old  man.  "  And  bring  your  packet  in 
to  me  to-morrow,  Jorn,  and  I'll  do  it  for  nothing." 

He  nodded  his  head  to  Jorn  several  times,  and  went  away 
limping  along  the  church  path,  still  nodding. 

It  suddenly  occurred  to  Jorn  Uhl :  "  That's  the  man  you 
should  ask  what  he  thinks  about  the  sermons  that  are  preached 
in  there."  He  turned  around.  But  the  old  tailor  had  settled 
into  a  gentle  trot  and  was  just  disappearing  around  the  end 
of  the  churchyard. 

When  Wieten  Klook  next  morning  asked  for  Jorn's  clothes 
to  brush  them  as  usual,  he  told  her  how  the  old  man  had  offered 
to  mend  the  coat  for  nothing. 

"  That's  a  strange  customer,  yon.  What  did  he  have  to 
say?  "  she  asked. 

Jorn  looked  puzzled  and  was  gazing  into  space.  "  It  was 
a  bit  windy  at  the  church  corner;  if  I  understood  him  properly, 
he  said  something  about  the  best  way  to  lead  one's  life  being 
to  pull  the  chestnuts  out  of  the  fire  for  other  people." 

"  He's  a  queer  fish,  Jorn.  God  be  with  us!  the  old  man  is 
goin'  completely  daft." 

"  Why  do  you  say  that,  Wieten?  "  said  Jorn.  "  He's  hard- 
working and  sober;    nobody  can  say  a  word  to  his  discredit; 


JORN     UHL  159 

he  is  always  cheerful  and  kindly,  and  you  know  how  he  made 
little  Dirksen's  confirmation  suit  for  him  for  nothing;," 

"  Yes,  but  what's  the  good  of  all  that  ?  The  man  has  never 
put  by  a  penny  for  himself.  He  works  the  whole  day.  But 
has  he  got  any  property  or  anything  else  to  show  for  it  all?" 
She  thrust  the  bundle  into  his  hands,  and  said,  "  And  now  clear 
out  of  this,  you  and  your  jacket." 

In  the  corridor  he  thought:  "  Now  that's  three  different 
ways  of  looking  at  things.  What's  preached  in  church  no 
sensible  man  can  bclie\e  in.  What  the  old  tailor  says  has 
sense  in  it.  But  what  Wieten  says  has  sense  in  it,  too.  The 
tailor  says,  Work  for  others  in  God's  name.  Wieten  says, 
Work  for  yourself  in  your  own  name." 

But  suddenly  he  stood  still,  turned  around,  and  returned  to 
the  kitchen.  She  was  standing  with  her  back  to  the  door,  work- 
ing. "  I  say,  Wieten,"  said  Jorn,  "  you  make  out  the  tailor 
talks  rubbish.  Well,  just  tell  me  then  how  it  is  about  your  own 
case?  Here  you  are,  working  for  nothing  from  morning  to 
night,  in  this  lonely,  dreary  house,  where  three  drunkards  have 
everything  their  own  way,  and  you  have  to  plague  yourself 
with  the  stubborn  girls  from  morning  to  night.  How  does 
that  fit  in  with  your  argument?  " 

She  turned  around  sharply  and  looked  at  him  with  aston- 
ishment. He  now  for  the  first  time  spoke  like  a  man  who 
thinks  for  himself,  and  this  change  in  him  came  as  such  a  sur- 
prise to  her  that  she  could  not  for  the  moment  realize  it. 
"  Laddie,"  she  said,  "  don't  begin  prating.  Don't  fash  yoursel' 
about  other  folk's  business,  and  don't  try  to  be  too  knowing." 

So  he  walked  away,  thinking  these  matters  over  to  himself. 

His  outer  life  was  in  truth  one  of  continual  toil.  His  father 
would  say:  ''There's  too  much  of  the  Thicssens  in  him,  and 
he'll  never  be  anything  better  than  a  hired  servant  for  his 
brothers."  One  day  ploughing,  next  day  sowing,  another  work- 
ing hard  at  home,  that  was  how  his  weeks  were  spent.  The 
first  to  start  work  of  a  morning  and  the  last  to  stop  at  night, 
w  ith  never  a  holiday  and  hardly  a  Sunday  to  himself.  His  eyes 
would  shut  of  themselves  every  evening  as  soon  as  supper  was 
over,  and  he  would  go  to  bed  early  and  sleep  without  a 
dream. 

His  figure  shot  up  tall  and  gaunt,  and  his  walk  grew  stolid 


i6o  JORN     UHL 

and  heavy  from  following  the  plough  in  the  heavy  land.  His 
sinews  grew  strong  as  iron.  It  was  no  trouble  to  him  to  go 
between  the  handles  of  his  plough  with  his  four  horses  all  day 
long,  turning  furrow  after  furrow  without  a  pause  for  rest. 
Although  he  was  not  quite  eighteen  yet,  he  could  at  wheat- 
harvest  pitch  three  sheaves  without  trouble  instead  of  one,  if 
his  fork  happened  to  catch  hold  of  them.  His  shoulders  grew 
broad,  widening  out  from  beneath  the  armpits  as  if  set  up  with 
bastions,  and  his  face  grew  bronze  with  the  sun  and  the  salt 
sea  breezes.  His  manner  and  speech  had  that  slow  decisiveness 
and  plod  in  them  which  is  peculiar  to  slow  and  brooding  minds. 
His  church-going  became  less  frequent;  but  every  second  and 
third  Sunday  he  still  put  on  his  blue,  well-fitting  suit,  and 
walked  silently  and  proudly,  with  head  upright,  to  church. 

That  autumn's  events  had  a  good  effect  upon  him.  For  many 
a  year  now  he  had  thought,  "  Be  diligent,  sober,  thrifty,  and 
follow  your  nose  till  you  die  —  that's  the  whole  of  the  joke, 
nothing  more."  But  the  conversation  with  the  tailor,  and  the 
reflections  and  comparisons  that  followed  it,  had  made  him  open 
his  eyes  a  little,  and  look  at  things  a  little  more  closely.  He 
discovered  all  of  a  sudden  that  the  matter  wasn't  quite  so  simple. 
There  were  other  things  that  were  good  to  have  besides  honesty 
and  money.  His  heart  opened  out  a  little,  and  he  became 
gentler  and  less  harsh. 

He  conceived  a  quiet  affection  for  some  of  the  workmen's 
children  from  Kamp,  and  would  sometimes  of  a  Sunday 
afternoon  sit  with  them  on  the  bank  of  the  Au  and  whittle 
willow  twigs  into  whistles  for  them,  and  help  the  smallest  of 
them  to  make  chains  out  of  the  stems  of  dandelions.  In  win- 
ter, however,  he  would  keep  apples  stored  away  in  straw  at 
the  bottom  of  his  box,  and  laugh  at  the  devices  of  the  children 
to  draw  his  attention  by  coughing  or  louder  talking  when  they 
passed  the  farm  on  their  way  to  school,  for  they  didn't  venture 
to  make  a  direct  request  to  him  for  the  fruit.  He  looked  to 
them  so  tall  and  earnest.  Sometimes,  of  a  wintry  evening,  he 
brought  out  his  Littrow,  and  looked  at  the  maps  of  the  stars 
in  the  appendix,  and  went  out  into  the  apple-garden  on  starlight 
nights,  seeking  out  the  different  stars  and  noting  their  names. 
But  when  he  discovered  that  he  was  becoming  absorbed,  and 
more  greedy  for  knowledge,  and  when  he  noticed  how  the 
delight  of  learning  began  to  go  to  bis  head  like  wine,  he  drew 


JORN     UHL  i6i 

back  terrified,  and  put  the  book  away  again  in  the  box,  right 
at  the  very  bottom  under  the  straw  where  the  apples  lay. 

He  sealed  up  and  stored  away  the  discoveries  he  had  made 
about  men  and  things,  as  the  shipman  stores  away  his  cargo  in 
the  dark  hold  of  the  vessel.  Jorn's  cargo  of  experiences,  too, 
seemed  non-existent,  without  importance  and  v\ithout  a  pur- 
pose, but  it  was  only  hidden  away.  It  had  enriched  his  soul 
and  lay  there  as  part  of  his  wealth,  and  made  the  ship  sail 
deeper  and  safer. 

Thus  one  experience  followed  the  other,  one  being  after 
another  came  into  his  life.  They  approached  him,  gave  him 
a  portion  of  their  knowledge  and  experience,  and  went  away 
again. 


CHAPTER    XI. 

In  the  following  spring,  with  the  astuteness  of  an  older  man, 
he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  it  would  be  best  to  offer  him- 
self for  service  in  the  militia  without  further  delay;  he  would 
then  have  a  free  path  before  him,  after  he  had  served  the  pre- 
scribed time  in  the  army.  The  general  looked  with  satisfaction 
at  the  big,  broad-shouldered  youth  standing  naked  before  him 
for  examination,  and  asked,  good-humoredly,  "  Horse  Guards 
or  Artillery?"  Jorn  bethought  himself  a  moment,  and  said, 
"  Artillery."  The  members  of  the  examining  commission  were 
greatly  astonished.  "Why?"  asked  the  general.  "  I'm  better 
suited  for  it."  "Why?"  asked  the  general  again.  A  shrewd 
look  came  over  Jorn's  face,  and  he  said,  "  It  seems  to  me  that 
the  Artillery  are  a  more  homely  sort  of  men,  and  more  necessary 
for  the  country  into  the  bargain."  The  general  nodded  ap- 
provingly, and  dismissed  him. 

Bailie  Eisohn  —  the  same  man  who  used  to  drink  and  gamble 
with  the  farmers,  and  whose  only  child  had  afterward  to  go 
begging  and  died  in  poverty  —  assumed  a  knowing  look,  and 
said,  "  He's  one  of  the  old  stock  of  the  Uhls,  but  he's  a  poor 
specimen  of  them,  general.  There's  no  gumption  in  him." 
"Nonsense,"  said  the  general;  "I'll  answer  for  that  fellow. 
I'm  a  fair  judge  of  faces,  Mr.  Bailie,  and  have  a  very  good 
idea  how  different  people  have  turned  out  after  all  my  expe- 
rience in  times  of  peace  and  two  campaigns." 

So  that  autumn,  as  soon  as  the  harvest  was  in,  Jorn  went  to 
Rendsburg.  Geert  Dose,  the  son  of  old  Dose  who  used  to  live 
at  Dingerdonn,  was  told  off  to  the  same  battery  as  Jorn,  and 
went  with  him. 

Rendsburg  was  at  that  time  still  a  quiet  country  town.  And 
even  had  it  been  as  full  of  life  as  Hamburg  and  the  finest  city 
in  all  the  land,  what  would  it  have  mattered  to  these  farmers' 
sons?    What  concern  had  they  with  the  world?    As  for  Jorn, 

162 


JORN     UHL  163 

he  was  there  to  learn  what  was  to  be  learnt,  and  to  obey  what- 
ever orders  might  be  given  him,  for  three  years.  In  his  spare 
time  he  could  do  what  he  liked.  Then  his  thoughts  Hew  away 
home  to  the  fields  and  the  stables  of  the  Uhl. 

He  made  capital  headway  in  his  military  work.  There  could 
not  have  been  a  better  soldier.  He  was  hardy,  shrewd,  and 
obedient.  A  corporal  fresh  from  the  Military  School,  who 
was  always  talking  about  the  "  unlicked  stockish  Holsteiners," 
would  fain  have  made  Jorn  Uhl  into  a  footstool  for  the  mag- 
nificence of  his  young  authority.  But  on  the  fourth  or  fifth 
day  Lieutenant  Hax,  whom  his  men  called  "  Long  John," 
happened  to  get  wind  of  the  corporal's  intention,  and  had  a  short 
talk  with  him,  and  that  was  the  end  of  it. 

Next  day,  when  Long  John  was  passing  through  the  stables, 
he  met  Jorn  Uhl  carrying  two  buckets  of  water.  "  Uhl,  where 
in  the  world  do  you  get  that  long,  heavy  step  of  yours?  I've 
never  seen  such  a  young  fellow  with  a  walk  like  that  all  my 
born  days.     Looks  as  if  you  were  carrying  heavy  iron  rails." 

Jorn  set  the  buckets  down  with  a  clatter  and  stood  there  stiff 
as  a  poker.  "  I've  had  to  work  hard  ever  since  I  was  a  child," 
he  said. 

*'  Commenced  ploughing  when  you  were  a  two-year-old,  eh?  " 

"  Yes,  and  it's  heavy  land  down  there." 

"  I  come  from  near  Itzehoe,"  said  the  lieutenant,  "  know  those 
parts  well,  and  have  been  in  VVentorf,  too.  Your  father  has 
a  big  farm  down  there,  I   fancy  ?  " 

"  At  vour  service,  sir.     But  I've  had  to  work." 

"Oh,  so  the  old  chap  didn't?" 

"  No." 

"Nor  your  brothers,  either?     Eh?" 

"  No." 

"  You've  got  such  a  —  what  shall  I  say  ?  —  such  a  grave  look 
on  your  face,  Uhl.  Can't  understand  it  in  a  young  fellow 
like  you." 

"  It'll  go  ill  with  the  ploughing,  down  at  the  Uhl,  this 
autumn,"  said  Jorn. 

Lieutenant  Hax  frowned  slightly,  but  said  nothing.  From 
that  day  forth  he  treated  Jorn  with  consideration  and  esteem, 
and  showed  it  by  expecting  more  work  from  him  than  from 
any  other  man  in  the  battery,  and  by  always  entrusting  him 
with  the  most  difficult  tasks. 


i64  JORN     UHL 

Jorn's  comrades  at  first  showed  a  certain  dislike  to  him. 
They  had  heard  that  he  was  the  son  of  a  big  marsh  farmer, 
and  were  inclined  to  take  his  quiet,  reserved  way  for  pride. 
And,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  he  was  not  without  a  touch  of  stolid 
yeoman's  pride.  And  this  feeling  of  reserve  was  enhanced  at 
first  by  a  certain  coarse  tone  that  prevailed  in  the  mess-room 
to  which  he  belonged.  This  was  due  to  the  presence  of  two 
or  three  braggart  fellows,  who  had  succeeded  in  getting  a  name 
among  their  comrades  as  "  men  of  the  world  "  by  dint  of  con- 
stant prate  about  their  experiences  and  adventures.  As  a  village 
boy  and  son  of  a  farmer,  Jorn  was  indeed  not  unacquainted 
with  a  great  deal  of  what  these  two  heroes  talked  about;  cer- 
tain other  facts  he  had  already  dimly  guessed  at ;  and  more- 
over there  was  a  strongly  sensuous  side  to  his  nature;  but  all 
these  things  lay  hid  in  the  most  secret  depths  of  his  soul,  and 
guarded  with  most  scrupulous  conscience.  It  was  intolerable 
to  him,  and  caused  him  pain,  almost  physical,  to  hear  these 
braggart  fellows  discussing  these  holy  secrets  of  nature,  amid 
their  bursts  of  hilarity.  And  as  he  listened  to  their  talk, 
moreover,  it  became  clearer  and  clearer  to  him  how  deeply  and 
hopelessly  his  brothers  at  home  were  enmeshed  in  passion  and 
licentiousness. 

So  while  such  jests  were  going  around,  he  used  to  sit  there 
with  the  same  expression  on  his  face  as  that  with  which  he  had 
listened  to  his  brothers'  speeches,  and  making  no  concealment 
of  his  disgust  and  contempt. 

One  evening  the  two  heroes  tried  to  bring  him  to  book  for 
this  demeanor.  But  with  the  astuteness  of  one  w^ho  has  all  his 
life  had  to  do  with  Nature,  Jorn  had  foreseen  some  such  quarrel, 
and  had  made  sure  of  getting  his  old  schoolmate  Geert  Dose 
to  stand  by  him  in  case  of  need.  So  the  two  heroes,  who  had 
only  reckoned  on  having  one  opponent  to  deal  with,  found 
themselves  confronting  two,  and  got  a  very  sound  thrashing. 
From  that  time  forth,  although  the  mess-room  tone  remained 
rough,  it  lost  its  downright  coarseness. 

Jorn's  comrades  did  not  like  him  at  first.  They  mistook 
the  zeal  and  diligence  with  which  he  carried  out  his  work  from 
day  to  day  for  toadyism,  as  if  he  were  merely  striving  to  gain 
the  favor  of  his  superiors.  But  they  soon  found  out  that  his 
zeal  was  nothing  more  than  simple  honesty.  They  saw  that 
he  was  thoroughly  reliable,   and   that  he  was  no  self-seeker; 


JORN     UHL  165 

and  when  they  heard  from  Geert  Dose  what  a  hard  time  he 
had  had  in  his  youth,  they  loolvcd  up  to  him  with  respect,  as 
young  sailors  do  to  the  comrade  who  has  made  the  longest 
voyage.  He  became  a  kind  of  arbitrator  and  umpire  among 
them,  and  many  a  mother's  son  of  them  found  in  him  and  his 
sharp,  terse  decisions  a  good  helper  in  times  of  distress. 

"  I  say,  Uhl,  have  you  heard  the  news?  Riiclcert  has  bolted, 
and  has  been  caught  again." 

"  What  does  the  fellow  want  to  bolt  for?  When  a  horse  is 
drawing  the  plough,  it  mustn't  kick;  that's  clear.  What  does 
he  want  to  bolt  for,  if  he's  a  real  soldier?  Discipline  is  dis- 
cipline." 

Uhl,  you're  a  real  sensible  chap,  but  you're  a  bit  too  sen- 
sible." 

Jorn  Uhl  sucked  at  his  short  pipe,  and  said,  "  I  don't  know- 
how  it  is  that  I  can't  laugh  like  other  folk.  It  seems  to  me 
as  if  my  face  has  been  frozen  stiff  sometime  or  other,  and  I 
can't  get  it  into  working  order  again.  But  when  you  others 
laugh,  I  like  listening  to  jou  mightily.  Come,  tell  us  a  story, 
one  of  you.     You,  Geert,  tell  us  a  yarn  about  Lanky  Sott." 

"  I  say  .  .  .  you  know  Plank,  don't  you  .  .  .  he's  in  his 
third  year  now,  he's  gone  and  got  that  little  fair-haired  girl  into 
trouble  —  you  know,  the  one  in  service  at  the  doctor's.  She 
was  turned  away  from  there  yesterday,  and  she's  been  to  the 
canteen  wanting  to  speak  with  Plank.  But  he  shammed  illness 
and  .  .  .  Do  you  know  him,  Uhl?" 

"  He's  a  lout,"  said  Jorn;  "  if  he's  ridden  the  little  mare  too 
deep  into  the  horse-pond,  he'll  have  to  get  her  out  again.  We 
mustn't  let  him  have  a  moment's  peace  till  he  confesses  he's 
engaged  to  her,  and  invites  us  to  the  betrothal.  Let's  tell  him 
we've  clubbed  together  and  are  going  to  shout  a  cask  of  beer 
the  night  we  congratulate  him.  When  he  hears  that,  he'll  get 
an  idea  of  what  we  think  about  the  matter." 

Geert  Dose  was  often  the  butt  of  the  mess-room  jests;  it 
was  said  he  had  learnt  next  to  nothing  at  school,  and,  besides, 
he  could  look  as  if  he  were  a  regular  simpleton.  But  his 
mother  was  one  of  the  real,  genuine  Grays,  a  daughter  of  the 
well-known  crook-backed  Stoffer  Cray. 

Stoffcr  Cra>',  it  must  be  explained,  was  not  a  crook-back 
by  birth.  In  his  youth  he  had  done  a  lot  of  smuggling  and 
had  often  led  the  coast-guardsmen  a  dance,  by  disguising  him- 


i66  JORN     UHL 

self  as  a  hunchback.  At  last  it  happened  that  one  of  the 
coast-guardsmen  came  by  his  death  down  there  in  the  Fens,  and 
folk  said  that  Stolfer  Cray  had  decoyed  him  there  and  pushed 
him  into  the  water.  From  that  time  forward  he  gave  up 
smuggling,  and  grew  into  a  silent,  close-fisted  man,  and  grad- 
ually, from  being  erect  and  straight  as  a  young  ash,  he  got  the 
carriage  and  gait  of  a  hunchback.  For  many  a  year  he  w^as 
a  familiar  figure  in  the  villages,  as  he  trotted  along  by  the  side 
of  his  dogs  and  their  little  cart.  This  old  man  was  Geert 
Dose's  grandfather,  and  it  was  from  him  that  Geert  had  got 
his  quick  wits. 

He  had  been  in  service  at  the  house  of  a  big  farmer  in  the 
!Marsh,  a  man  who  was  very  sleepy,  stupid,  and  inclined  to 
grumble.  The  youth  managed  to  ingratiate  himself  with  his 
master  through  his  kind  and  obliging  ways,  and  had  made  the 
most  of  the  farmer's  good-will  toward  him.  So  he  had  passed 
a  pleasant  time  in  his  service  and  had  played  many  a  merry 
trick  at  this  dull-wn'tted  loon's  expense.  His  comrades  would 
sometimes  get  him  to  tell  them  one  or  other  of  these  tricks  for 
the  general  amusement. 

He  sat  on  the  edge  of  his  straw  mattress,  cast  a  glance  around 
the  room,  and  began :  "  I  remember  a  yarn  about  a  Geest-carl. 
.  .  .  Do  you  know  what  a  Geest-carl  is?  Well,  a  Geest-carl 
is  a  man  who,  toward  winter  or  so,  quits  his  hungry  village 
up  there  on  the  heath  and  goes  down  to  the  marsh  and  threshes 
corn  for  some  farmer  and  comes  back  home  in  spring.  And 
with  these  Geest-carls  Farmer  Sott  was  never  out  of  difficulties. 

"  One  day  one  of  them  came  along,  a  little  gray  fellow,  as 
brown  and  dry  and  angular  as  a  block  of  turf,  and  with  a 
forlorn  look  in  his  eyes,  like  a  man  that's  lost  his  way  in  the 
woods.  He  kept  wagging  his  head  backw^ards  and  forwards. 
'Ah!'  said  I  to  myself,  when  I  saw^  him,  'there's  some  fun 
brewing  again.'  '  Farmer,'  said  I,  *  just  mark  my  words. 
We'll  have  some  trouble  with  that  fellow.' 

"  Well,  the  gaberlunzie  chap  went  to  bed  and  got  up  next 
morning,  and  as  he's  sitting  eating  his  porridge  and  sour  butter- 
milk—  we  used  to  have  sour  buttermilk  every  morning  and 
evening,  sometimes  at  midday,  too  —  in  comes  old  Sott  as  it 
were  by  chance,  and  wants  to  examine  him  a  bit,  quite  cau- 
tiously, so  to  say,  like  a  dog  tackling  a  porcupine.  And  by 
his  hanging  jaws  and  wide-staring  eyes  you  could  see  that  he 


JORN     UHL  167 

was  ready  to  expect  anything.  '  I  just  thought  I'd  like  to 
know  what's  your  name  and  where  ye  hail  from,'  he  said.  As 
soon  as  he  was  asked  his  name,  the  man's  eyes  began  travelling 
all  over  the  room,  around  and  around  and  up  and  down.  \  ou 
would  have  thought  his  name  was  a  wasp  circling  around  his 
head  and  trying  to  sting  him.  'My  name?'  says  he,  and  his 
eyes  went  wildly  around  the  room  once  more.  Farmer  Sott 
bent  over  the  table  gaping  with  astonishment.  I  sat  quite 
still,  enjoying  the  fun.  I  put  an  old  two-shilling  piece  that 
had  gone  out  of  date  on  the  table  before  me,  and  said  to  myself, 
'  Next  Sunday  I'll  put  that  in  the  plate,  extra,  just  for  the 
sake  of  this  joke.' 

"Well,  what  do  you  think?  Sure  as  a  gun  the  Geest-carl 
had  forgotten  his  name.  He'd  had  it  yesterday,  he  said,  but 
last  night  he  must  have  either  forgotten  it  or  lost  it  somewhere. 
He  said  that  such  things  often  happened  to  him.  1  asked 
whether  I  hadn't  better  go  and  look  among  the  straw  where 
he'd  slept,  it  might  be  lying  there  still.  I  must  have  been 
grinning,  for  of  a  sudden  old  Sott  leant  o\er  the  table  and 
caught  me  a  spank  that  made  my  head  rattle  like  a  pane  of 
glass,  and  I  wasn't  long  getting  out  of  the  room. 

"  So  far  everything  had  gone  fine  and  smooth.  The  Geest- 
carl  had  lost  his  name  and  couldn't  find  it  for  the  life  of  him, 
although  we  all  helped  him  to  look  for  it.  He  said  he  had  a 
dim  notion  that  his  name  was  a  pretty  long  one  and  had  some- 
thing or  other  to  do  with  eating.  More  he  couldn't  remember, 
said  he.  We  made  all  sorts  of  guesses  at  it,  but  he  shook  his 
head  and  would  have  none  of  them.  He  said  it  was  quite  an 
odd  out-o'-the-way  sort  of  name.  Old  Sott  hit  upon  the  bright 
idea  of  sending  him  to  the  minister,  and  the  minister  was  to 
read  him  a  whole  host  of  names  out  of  the  Baptismal  Register, 
and  if  he  heard  a  name  that  sounded  like  his  own  the  gaber- 
lunzie  was  to  nod  his  head.  But  he  never  nodded  once.  He 
knew  a  thing  worth  two  of  that.  He  only  kept  on  turning  his 
eyes  up  and  down  as  a  girl  does  playing  catchers. 

"  At  last  he  said  he  believed  his  name  was  a  pretty  long  one. 
H  he  could  only  hit  upon  a  part  of  it,  perhaps  he'd  remember 
the  rest.  '  Yes,'  said  Sott,  '  but  how's  that  to  be  done?  '  '  Oh,' 
said  the  Geest-carl,  '  he  supposed  the  best  way  would  be  to 
.  .  .  that  is,  if  Farmer  Sott  had  nothing  against  it.'  '  Of 
course,'  said  Sott,  with  eyes  as  big  as  an  ox's,  he  was  that  curious. 


i68  J  O  R  N     U  H  L 

*  Well,'  said  the  Geest-carl,  '  he  knew  his  name  had  something 
to  do  with  eating.  So  the  likeliest  way  would  be  for  him  to 
get  the  same  food  to  eat  as  he  dreamed  about  of  nights.  At 
least  for  a  time,  by  way  of  a  trial.  That  would  be  pretty  certain 
to  have  some  connection  with  his  name,  and  when  he  had 
thoroughly  dreamt  through  and  eaten  through  the  whole  of 
his  name  it  would  be  pretty  sure  to  occur  to  him  again.' 

"  Well,  the  farmer  agreed,  and  off  he  started.  For  six  nights 
the  carl  dreamt  of  butter,  and  got  it,  too,  and  ate  huge  quan- 
tities of  it.  Next  he  said  he  had  dreamt  of  still  greater  piles 
of  butter.  The  farmer's  wife  grew  angry,  but  old  Sott  says 
it's  no  good  grumbling,  we  must  just  get  to  the  bottom  of  the 
matter.  And  for  six  days  the  carl  ate  his  fill  of  butter  again 
for  all  he  was  worth.  Well,  after  awhile,  what  does  he  do 
but  go  and  dream  of  pans  of  milk.  '  What  sort  of  milk?  '  asks 
Sott,  while  the  goodwife  leans  half  over  the  table,  glaring  at 
him  anxiously.  '  Skim-milk?  '  asked  Sott.  '  No,'  said  he,  '  the 
milk  I  dreamed  of  had  thick  cream  on  it.'  So  they  started 
on  the  milk,  and  we  always  had  a  big  bowl  full  of  sweet  new 
milk  on  the  table,  and  all  of  us  took  good  care  to  get  our 
share  of  it.  And  so  the  carl  ate  his  way  through  the  winter 
and  throve  mightily.  Till  one  day  about  the  middle  of  March, 
when  everything's  just  beginning  to  sprout  and  get  green  in 
the  fields,  in  the  evening  he  got  them  to  pay  him  the  money 
he'd  earned.  As  soon  as  he'd  got  it,  off  he  goes  to  his  room 
and  fetches  his  things,  and  a  moment  or  so  aftei-ward  there 
he  is  outside  the  farmer's  window,  and  says  he,  '  I've  eaten  my 
way  through  my  name,'  says  he,  '  and  now  I  know  what  it  is.' 

*  What!  '  sings  out  old  Sott,  springing  to  his  feet.  '  Yes,'  said 
the  carl,  '  I  mind  me  of  it  now.  It's  John  Stoffer  Buttermilk.' 
'Buttermilk!'  screams  Sott,  'why  didn't  ye  dream  that  at 
once,  eh?  That  would  have  come  a  lot  cheaper.'  'Yes,'  said 
the  carl,  with  a  self-satisfied  laugh,  and  rolling  his  eyes  again 
as  he'd  done  of  before.  '  That's  always  the  way  with  me.  I 
can  never  dream  anything  but  the  separate  parts.'  Sott  puts 
a  good  face  on  the  matter.  '  Well,'  says  he,  cajolingly,  '  just 
step  inside,  then,  for  now  you  have  buttermilk  for  a  week  to 
come.'  But  the  carl  gave  himself  a  shake  as  if  he  felt  a  dozen 
or  so  cold  eels  squirming  down  his  back.  '  That's  just  what 
was  the  matter,  master.  The  missus  always  used  to  set  butter- 
milk before  us  for  meals,  and  I  couldn't  stand  it  three  times 


JORN     UHL  169 

a  day.'  And  with  that  off  he  went,  and  we  never  saw  him 
again.  ...  Of  course,  1  had  to  bear  the  brunt  of  it.  For  as 
I  was  going  to  my  room  that  night,  there  stood  old  Sott  in 
the  passage,  just  where  it's  a  bit  dark,  waiting  for  me,  and 
makes  out  that  I  had  hatched  the  whole  plot  with  the  winter- 
carl,  and  that  lie  was  going  to  dust  my  jacket  for  me;  which 
he  did,  for  it  was  a  quiet  spot." 

"  He  hit  the  right  nail  on  the  head,"  said  Jorn,  laughing. 
And  the  others,  too,  agreed ;  saying,  "  You  well  deserved  all 
you  got,  Geert.  .  .  .  But  this  yarn  wasn't  quite  such  humbug 
as  some  you've  told  us.     At  any  rate,  give  us  another." 

"  Oh,"  said  Geert  Dose,  ..."  if  you  want  to  make  out 
that  I'm  telling  lies  .  .  ." 

"  Geert,  you'd  better  begin  straight  off,  or  else  look  out  for 
yourself.  If  you  haven't  been  telling  lies  this  time,  you've 
done  it  often  enough  before.  So  look  sharp  and  make  a  start, 
unless  you  want  to  catch  it." 

Geert  Dose  looks  at  Jorn  Uhl,  as  much  as  to  say:  "Jorn, 
you  and  I  are  the  only  two  sensible  ones  among  all  these  chil- 
dren." But  as  they  are  now  standing  up  and  threatening  him 
with  their  fists,  he  begins  again  in  an  injured  tone. 

"  Well.  .  .  .  You  fellows  talk  about  volunteer  Kiekbusch's 
mighty  appetite,  but  we  had  a  winter-carl  at  our  farm  —  I 
mean  at  Burly  Sott's.  He  thrashed  the  whole  winter  there 
with  us.  He  used  to  eat  at  the  same  table  as  us  at  first. 
But  we  soon  saw  that  that  game  wouldn't  answer.  He  used  to 
have  everything  put  away  before  we  caught  a  glimpse  of  it. 
Just  as  we'd  be  thinking  about  pegging  in  properly,  the  bacon 
dish'd  be  empty.  So  old  Sott  said  they'd  have  to  take  the 
big  boiler  for  him,  for  he  was  determined  to  give  the  chap 
enough  to  eat,  even  though  he  had  to  mortgage  his  farm  to  do 
it.  Well.  .  .  .  The  big  boiler  w^as  brought  into  action,  and 
he  really  ate  himself  full  out  of  it.  But  it  took  a  good  time, 
pretty  close  on  two  hours,  before  he  got  the  pot  empty.  Think. 
then  .  .  .  what  was  to  he  done?  Sott  comes  along  to  the 
barn  and  says,  '  I  say,  Geest-carl,  just  tell  us  straight  out,  how 
did  you  manage  to  eat  enough  when  you  were  at  home,  and 
yet  have  any  time  left  over  for  work?  We  want  to  do  the 
right  thing  by  you,  if  we  can,  if  you'll  just  tell  us.'  So  the 
Geest-carl  opens  his  mouth  and  tells  them  how  he  had  managed 
it.      His  wife,  it  seems,  had   nailed   a  broom-handle  across  the 


170  JORN     UHL 

calves'  trougli,  and  then  he  had  to  stand  close  up  to  the  kitchen 
door  and  get  fed  at  it. 

"  '  Man,'  said  the  farmer,  '  you're  not  in  your  right  mind. 
You  don't  mean  to  say  that's  the  way  they  did  it?  Well,  by 
George,  well  do  as  much  for  you,  too.  We'll  do  as  much 
for  you,  see  if  we  don't.'  And,  sure  as  a  gun,  they  started  it 
going.  Sott  says  to  me,  '  Geert,'  says  he,  '  you'll  have  to  do  it, 
you've  got  a  good  head  on  your  shoulders,  and  you'll  soon 
get  the  hang  of  it.'  '  Of  course  I  will,'  says  I,  '  for  I  wasn't 
behind  the  door  when  brains  were  being  served  out.  I'll 
manage  it  somehow  or  other.'  And  blest  if  we  didn't  do  it, 
and  brought  the  fellow  through  the  winter  splendid. 

"  When  it  was  getting  on  toward  spring  his  wife  came  to 
fetch  him  home,  and  said  her  husband  had  never  yet  been 
with  such  nice  people  before.  '  This  time,'  said  she,  '  he's  put 
on  fat  properly.'  She  felt  him  all  over,  nodding  with  satis- 
faction, and  cracking  up  old  Sott.  He  likes  to  hear  that  sort 
o'  thing.  In  summer  she  said  her  husband  never  eats  nothing 
to  speak  of. 

"'What!'  cried  Sott.  'What's  that  you  say?  In  summer 
he  don't  eat  nothing  to  speak  of?  Do  you  mean  to  say  he 
lives  on  his  own  extra  fat?  '  No,  the  woman  says,  that  wasn't 
it  exactly.  But  .  .  .  good  Lord  .  .  .  why,  men  alive !  .  .  . 
just  imagine  it!  .  .  .  She  actually  made  out  that  her  husband 
was,  so  to  say,  a  kind  of  animal  that  chew'd  the  cud." 

"  Geert  Dose,  you're  lying,"  the  others  yelled.  "  He's  going 
it  a  bit  too  strong;    whack  him." 

But  Jorn  Uhl  laughed,  and  kept  them  off.  "  Leave  him 
alone,"  he  said ;  "  it's  all  true  that  he's  been  telling  us,  and  if 
it's  not  true,  why  do  you  come  listening?" 

Geert  Dose  sat  quite  quiet,  as  though  it  were  all  no  con- 
cern of  his,  and  looked  quite  innocent.  He  glanced  at  them  all 
reproachfully,  and  said  at  last:  "Do  you  hear?  What  Jorn 
Uhl  says  is  always  true." 

"Well,  go  on  with  your  yarn;  but  if  you  put  it  on  too 
thick,  \\  e'll  thump  you  all  the  same.     So  fire  away." 

"  Oh,  fire  away,  you  say.  It's  as  easy  as  falling  off  a  log, 
according  to  you.  Well,  I  remember  once  .  .  .  but  if  you 
say  it's  only  humbug  .  .  ." 

"  That's  all  right.     Now,  start  again." 
Well  ...  I  was  going  to  say,  when  the  winter  is  coming 


(( 


JORN     UHL  171 

to  an  end,  it's  often  a  bad  matter  for  the  farmers.  It's  then 
that  they  all  get  more  or  less  strange  in  their  ways,  especially 
the  grass-farmers.  Some  get  hot  blood,  others  again  freeze. 
Some  will  get  their  attack  as  early  as  March,  others  about 
the  time  when  the  cattle  go  back  to  pasture,  so  to  say,  about 
the  beginning  of  May.  There  are  some  that,  about  the  time 
when  they  get  this  cranky  fit,  go  off  to  the  asylum  for  four 
weeks  of  their  own  accord.  The  doctors  in  Holstein  have 
special  arrangements  for  them.  Well,  that  was  the  time  o' 
year  when  Burly  Sott  always  used  to  get  a  kind  of  frozen, 
glassy  look  about  him.  He  looked  as  lifeless  as  a  dead  hedge- 
hog.   Well,  so  much  for  that. 

"  Once,  about  March  it  was  —  cold,  wet,  icy  weather,  and  the 
whole  farm  lay  waterlogged  in  fog  and  wet,  and  icicles  hung 
from  the  eaves  like  fork-handles.  It  was  then,  as  I  was  saying, 
that  his  wife  had  a  real  bad  time  of  it  with  him.  Once  he 
came  and  stood  in  the  kitchen,  talking  all  sorts  of  nonsense 
to  her;  then  gradually  his  words  came  slower  and  slower,  till 
at  last  he  fell  over  and  lay  in  a  heap  in  the  turf-box.  And 
as  he  was  in  the  way  there,  the  farm-girls  scolded,  and  gave 
him  a  stinger  now  and  again  with  the  sole  of  their  wooden 
clogs.  At  last  they  managed  to  rouse  him,  and  he  went  out ; 
they  were  glad  to  get  rid  of  him.  But  the  strange  thing  was 
that  he  didn't  come  in  again,  even  when  it  was  dark.  We 
looked  for  him  everywhere,  but  we  couldn't  find  him.  His 
wife  said:  '  I'm  just  curious  to  see  what  he's  been  up  to  this 
time.'  But  I  was  quite  quiet,  and  thought  to  myself.  He's 
been  and  dumped  himself  down  somewhere  in  the  hay,  in  one 
of  the  barns,  and  hasn't  woke  yet. 

"  Well,  next  morning,  when  we  were  all  sitting  around  the 
porridge,  the  kitchen-maid  says  all  of  a  sudden:  'I  saw 
master  again  last  night.  He  was  standing  under  the  eaves  of 
the  house,  below  the  icicles,  and  looked  all  shiny  and  slippery.' 
And  when  I  took  a  look  through  the  window,  sure  as  anything, 
I  saw  long,  thick  icicles  hanging  down  from  the  roof.  It 
didn't  take  me  long  to  put  two  and  two  together.  So  I  said 
to  Sott's  wife  and  the  others,  '  I've  got  a  pretty  good  idea 
where  to  find  the  farmer.     Come  along  with  me.' 

"  We  all  went  out.  And,  sure  enough,  he'd  put  himself 
under  the  spout  behind  the  barn.  He'd  been  looking  out  over 
hi?  meadows  to  see  if  there  were  any  signs  of  green  sprouting 


172  JORN     UHL 

as  yet,  and  had  fallen  asleep  as  he  stood  there.  For  he  was 
alread}'  so  cold  and  glassy  that  he  didn't  notice  the  water  trick- 
ling down  him  and  turning  to  ice  on  him.  And  so,  little  by 
little,  he  got  coated  all  over  with  ice.  He  was  ice  from  head 
to  foot,  face  and  all,  and  on  his  head  he  had  a  kind  of  dunce's 
cap  of  ice,  stiff  and  straight,  and  the  point  of  it  reached  right 
up  to  the  roof. 

"  Well,  we  broke  him  off  and  carried  him  into  the  kitchen. 
It  took  four  men  to  do  it,  and  the  trouble  was  to  get  a  grip 
of  him  anywhere,  he  was  that  slippery.  We'd  no  sooner  brought 
him  in,  than  his  wife  began  abusing  him.  But  he  made  no 
sign  he  noticed  her,  except  to  give  me  a  wink  with  his  left  eye 
right  through  the  glass  —  a  thing  he  always  did  when  she 
scolded  and  I  was  by.  One  of  the  lads  proposed  that  we 
should  leave  him  as  he  was  and  take  him  with  us  to  Meldorf 
Market,  and  put  him  on  show  at  so  much  a  head ;  but  the 
youth  only  got  a  sound  box  on  the  ear  for  his  pains. 

"  Well,  what  was  to  be  done?  To  make  a  long  story  short 
—  we  first  stood  him  away  in  a  corner  while  we  finished  our 
meal  comfortably  in  peace.  Seeing  us  eating  he  got  a  mighty 
hungry  look  into  his  eyes,  and  now  and  again  he  would  put 
out  his  tongue  and  give  the  ice  a  lick,  and  every  time  he  did  it 
his  wife  let  out  a  screech  at  him.  Then  we  put  the  ice-man, 
as  we  called  him,  just  as  he  was,  into  the  big  bean-cauldron 
that  hung  over  the  fire.  We  put  him  in  upside  down  at  first, 
for  his  wife  vi'anted  to  get  at  him  with  her  slipper,  and  then 
gradually  we  got  him  melted.  But  it  took  a  good  half-ton  of 
turf.     And  then  we  softened  him  with  soda  and  ammonia." 

At  that  they  all  fell  upon  Geert  Dose,  and  Jorn  Uhl  could 
not  save  him ;  but  still  he  managed  to  prevent  them  from 
carrying  the  joke  too  far.  After  that  there  was  a  lull,  and  the 
barrack-room  became  silent.  Dose  went  away  to  bed,  and  Jorn 
fell  to  thinking.  The  others  talked  in  a  low  voice  about  the 
day's  work  that  lay  behind  them. 

In  the  third  j'ear,  when  Jorn  had  mastered  his  duties  as 
a  soldier  and  everything  went  smoothly,  he  spent  a  great 
deal  of  his  spare  time  in  the  house  of  a  subordinate  muni- 
cipal officer  who  was  a  good  ten  years  older  than  himself. 
Both  this  man  and  his  wife  came  from  the  neighborhood 
of  Wentorf,  and  as  a  boy  he  had  visited  Thiess  Thiessen  at 
Haze  Farm,  and  had  known  Fiete  Cray.     He  was  a  dapper 


JORN     UHL  173 

little  man.  His  hair  was  always  smooth  and  his  shirt-sleeves 
snowy  white.  He  was  diligent,  thorough,  sober,  and  thrifty,  and 
had  a  few  more  good  qualities  besides.  He  found  fault  with 
Thiess  Thiessen's  management  of  the  farm,  and  he  found  fault 
with  the  town  council  that  had  appointed  him  for  the  way  it 
managed  municipal  affairs.  He  found  fault  with  Fiete  Cray 
for  having  been  sitting  straddle-legs  on  his  little  cart  the  last 
time  he  saw  him.  He  found  fault  with  the  plans  of  the  govern- 
ment, as  well  as  with  the  words  of  the  king.  He  found  fault 
with  everything.  He  praised  nobody  but  himself  and — some- 
times—  his  wife,  who  on  rare  occasions,  and  very  shyly,  ven- 
tured to  repeat  things  he'd  said.  But  whenever  he  praised  her, 
he  always  added:  "It  was  I  called  her  attention  to  it,  and  now 
she  knows  what's  right." 

H  the  illness  from  which  this  very  model  man  was  suffering 
had  been  contagious,  his  companionship  would  have  been  a 
dangerous  thing  for  Jorn  Uhl.  But  this  is  a  disease  that  does 
not  infect  others ;  it  has  its  origin  in  the  nature  of  some  special 
individual,  spends  its  strength  in  him,  and  then  perishes  with 
him,  to  reappear,  perchance,  in  some  quite  different  place,  in 
some  other  individual.  Those  who  have  to  do  with  the  sick 
man  listen  to  his  boasting  patiently,  and  then  jeer  at  him  as 
soon  as  his  back  is  turned.  And  when  one  of  his  convivial 
acquaintances  is  tempted,  perhaps,  by  some  favorable  oppor- 
tunity, and  begins  to  brag,  this  disease  of  his  neighbor  will  all 
of  a  sudden  occur  to  him,  and  he'll  shut  his  mouth  and  so  escape 
making  a  fool  of  himself. 

Jorn  Uhl  was  twenty  years  old.  He  failed  to  see  how 
terribly  empty  and  shallow  his  friend's  heart  was.  He  found 
this  everlasting  self-praise  somewhat  obtrusive  and  tactless,  but 
reconciled  himself  to  it  by  thinking,  "Oh!  it's  just  his  way." 
So  he  had  little  to  say  on  his  visits  there,  and  indeed  seldom 
got  a  chance  to  speak  at  all.  He  would  sit  on  the  soft,  warm 
sofa  and  never  say  a  word,  smoking  and  listening,  and  feeling 
himself  not  a  little  honored  that  this  self-important,  smug  little 
man  should  devote  so  many  words  and  so  much  wisdom  to 
his  benefit;  in  short,  he  felt  quite  at  home  in  this  spick-and- 
span  little  household,  in  this  quiet,  childless  family.  But  one 
Sunday  afternoon  when  he  called,  the  dapper  little  man  was 
lying  full  lenp^th  on  the  sofa,  and  could  not  say  a  word  for 
toothache ;  so  he  entreated  Jorn  to  entertain  him  a  little.    This 


174  JORN     UHL 

was  the  first  time  that  Jorn  Uhl  had  talked  at  any  length  in 
that  room.  He  spoke  —  of  what  else  could  he  speak?  —  of 
the  Uhl  and  his  years  of  labor  there,  how  such  and  such  a 
field  had  been  improved  by  his  wise  cultivation,  and  how  well 
he  had  sold  these  or  those  head  of  cattle.  He  warmed  to  his 
subject,  and  for  two  hours  he  held  forth,  and  his  theme  was 
Jorn  Uhl's  life,  deeds,  and  opinions.  His  host  had  toothache, 
and  had  to  listen  in  silence.  The  wife  busied  herself  anxiously 
about  the  room,  and  seemed  very  worried  about  her  patient. 

When  Jorn  Uhl  came  again  next  day  to  hear  how  his  friend 
was  getting  on  —  he  had  also,  it  must  be  confessed,  rather  en- 
joyed talking  about  himself  —  the  mistress  of  the  house  took 
him  mysteriously  aside  into  the  kitchen,  and  tearfully  told  him 
that  after  he  had  gone  yesterday  her  husband  had  fallen  into 
a  rage  and  had  even  struck  her,  for  he  couldn't  bear  to  hear 
a  man  talk  about  himself,  and  he  wished  to  have  nothing  more 
to  do  with  Jorn  Uhl  of  Wentorf. 

Often  enough  in  his  life  has  Jorn  Uhl  had  to  pull  a  long 
face  —  and  it  was  a  thing  he  could  easily  do,  for  his  face  was 
pretty  long  already ;  but  never  was  it  longer  than  when  the 
polished  door-handle  of  his  Holsteiner  friend  banged  behind 
him  and  he  went  down  those  scrupulously  clean  steps  for  the 
last  time.  This  experience,  too,  he  stored  away  with  his  others, 
and  said  nothing  about  it.  Not  until  long  afterward,  twenty 
years  or  so,  when  his  character  had  been  thoroughly  purged 
and  he  had  come  near  to  truth  and  to  a  genuine  knowledge 
of  himself,  did  he  laughingly  confess  and  tell  his  wife  the 
story.  And  she  managed  to  make  a  weapon  out  of  it  which 
she  would  on  occasions  use  against  him.  "  What  was  that  story 
you  told  me,  Jorn?  Both  of  j'ou  were  so  smug  and  perfect, 
weren't  you?    Jorn,  you're  blushing!    And  well  you  may,  too." 

Only  once  did  he  let  his  comrades  talk  him  into  going  to  a 
dance  with  them.  He  watched  them  as  they  went  whirling 
around  so  bravely,  and  took  pleasure  in  looking  at  some  of  the 
girls  who  danced  well.  One  of  them,  a  tall,  lithe,  strong  girl, 
particularly  took  his  fancy,  and  he  followed  her  with  his  eyes. 
The  girl  soon  noticed  that  his  eyes  were  on  her,  and,  nothing 
loth,  took  one  of  her  acquaintances  by  the  arm  and  walked 
past  him,  looking  at  him.  But  as  he  made  no  overtures  to 
dance  with  her,  she  left  the  long,  stiff  fellow  standing  where  he 
was  and  went  away  to  the  others.     He  then  left  the  room  and 


JORN     UHL  175 

went  and  had  a  smoke,  sitting  at  the  window  with  the  stern 
face  of  a  righteous  man,  thinking  of  the  day  when  he  should 
return  home,  and  how  everything  would  look  down  there  at  the 
Uhl;  picturing  to  himself  how  he  would  get  everything  in 
order  again,  and  wondering  at  his  comrades,  that  they  should 
have  nothing  in  life  to  be  anxious  about  and  no  definite  aim. 
And  when  they  said  to  him,  "  It's  not  right  of  you  to  sit  there 
like  a  hermit.  You're  just  as  young  as  we  are,"  he  couldn't 
help  adopting  a  rather  mysterious  air,  and  hinting  that  he  had 
much  to  think  of. 

It  was  quite  right  and  proper  that  Private  Jiirgen  Uhl  should 
not  go  with  the  crowd  in  his  young  years,  but  that  he  should 
follow  well-considered  paths  of  his  own.  But  for  him  to  look 
upon  his  youth  as  dead,  and  pull  this  long,  righteous  face  to 
celebrate  its  funeral,  and  wear  a  countenance  as  though  he 
were  the  very  quintessence  of  prudence  and  foresight,  why,  that 
was  simply  laughable.  Look  out,  Jorn  Uhl !  Youth  will 
revenge  itself  on  you.  Up  with  you!  Don't  let  Jorn  Uhl 
turn  out  a  mere  fool.  It's  better  to  be  a  sinner  and  sin  down- 
right than  to  be  a  pattern  of  such  long-faced  righteousness. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

In  those  last  weeks  of  his  service  as  a  conscript,  he  had  felt  a 
speciall}'  strong  longing  to  be  home  on  the  farm  again  among 
the  barns  and  hay-ricks  and  stables,  and  had  gone  over  all  the 
cattle  affectionately  in  his  mind,  wondering  whetlicr  they'd 
still  be  there,  and  over  all  the  farm  implements  that  he'd 
handled  when  he  was  there,  and  which  had  grown  so  familiar 
to  him.  He  wheedled  and  hoodwinked  himself  into  a  belief  in 
the  hope  that  a  good  time  was  coming,  that  his  father  would 
now  be  older  and  his  brothers  more  reasonable,  and  that  he 
himself  would  have  a  greater  share  in  the  management.  He 
pictured  to  himself  how  he  would  sit  so  cosily  together  with 
Elsbe  and  Wieten  in  their  room  of  an  evening.  They  would 
make  a  nice  happy  trio,  he  thought. 

Unseen  and  unexpected,  he  returned  to  his  little  bedroom 
by  the  apple-trees;  he  opened  his  box  and  hauled  out  his  blue 
linen  jumper  and  trousers,  and  cast  a  glance  into  Littrow's 
"  Knowledge  of  the  Heavens." 

Then  he  turned  around  and  gazed  in  wonder  at  his  sister, 
who  was  standing  close  behind  him.  "  Why,  Sissy,"  he  said, 
"  you  haven't  grown  much  taller,  but  you've  got  round  and 
plump,  and  have  turned  out  a  fine  and  bonnie  girl,  just  as  I 
thought  you  would." 

But  she  had  a  dissatisfied,  almost  bitter,  look  on  her  face. 
To  his  inquiries  as  to  how  she  spent  her  time,  and  what  friends 
she  had,  she  gave  curt  and  ill-humored  replies.  In  looks,  she 
was  like  a  young,  full,  and  fruitful  morning  in  May,  but  her 
demeanor  was  moody  like  that  of  one  who  has  long  had  to  put 
up  with  harshness  and  injustice. 

Jorn  Uhl  was  much  too  clever  to  have  any  doubts  about  his 
own  judgment,  or  to  discreetly  and  unassumingly  look  into 
what  was  going  on  in  his  sister's  heart;  he  imagined  in  his 
self-sufficiency  that  he  would  soon  set  her  to  rights  again.     He 

176 


JORN     UHL  177 

thought  that  she  was  too  lonely,  and  that  his  presence  would 
make  all  the  difference  to  her.  He  said  so  to  Wieten,  and 
she  seemed  to  agree  with  him.  But  as  he  was  leaving  the 
kitchen  she  gazed  after  him  with  an  expression  that  hardly 
bore  witness  to  much  respect  for  his  judgment. 

After  he  had  been  back  home  for  about  a  fortnight,  it  hap- 
pened one  evening  that  Hinnerk  and  Hans  had  invited  some 
young  people  to  spend  the  evening  with  them.  Jorn  was  sit- 
ting in  the  little  back  room  with  Elsbe  and  Wieten,  and  all 
conversation  seemed  to  flag.  Suddenly  Harro  Heinsen  came  in 
and  joined  them.  He  had  been  serving  as  a  soldier  with  the 
Uhlans  in  Berlin,  and  had  got  through  a  lot  of  money.  He 
came,  as  he  said,  to  see  Jiirgen.  "  I  just  wanted  to  say  '  Good 
day  '  to  you.  We've  done  with  playing  soldiers  now,  and  got 
it  over.     Won't  you  come  into  the  front  room  with  us  a  bit?  " 

Jorn  shook  his  head  and  remained  sitting  where  he  was,  wrap- 
ping himself  in  clouds  of  smoke  from  his  pi^te. 

So  Harro  Heinsen  sat  down  and  began  talking  and  bragging 
about  his  soldier's  experiences;  and  Jorn,  who  mentally  dis- 
agreed with  everything  the  ex-Uhlan  said,  uttered  not  a  syllable. 
Presently  Heinsen  asked  Elsbe,  whom  he  kept  gazing  at  with 
his  handsome  eyes,  whether  she  wouldn't  come  into  the  front 
room  with  them  for  awhile.  She  ought  to,  he  said ;  for,  if  she 
came,  some  other  girls  who  were  sitting  outside  would  come, 
too.  Elsbe  sat  there  as  though  she  were  made  of  stone.  Then 
she  looked  at  her  brother,  but  he  was  biting  his  lips,  and 
showing  but  too  clearly  that  he  was  not  equal  to  the  situation. 
Then,  with  sudden  resolution,  she  put  her  sewing  together, 
and  went  with  him.  As  they  crossed  the  threshold  they  heard 
the  sound  of  boisterous  girls'  voices  from  the  front  of  the  house. 
It  was  already  late,  and  a  dark  night  in  November. 

Jorn  paced  up  and  down  the  room,  now  and  again  looking 
over  toward  Wieten  ;  but  she,  with  inscrutable  face,  was  buried 
in  her  work,  and  said  not  a  word.  In  those  two  hours  he  had 
a  new  and  great  experience,  and  learnt  what  it  means  to  be 
in  bitter  anxiety  for  one  whom  one  loves. 

At  last  he  went  over  to  his  little  bedroom,  and  wandered  up 
and  down  awhile,  and  then  stood  by  the  window,  looking  out 
into  the  dark.  He  bitterly  accused  God  and  the  whole  world 
that  everything  that  belonged  to  this  house  was  fated  to  be 
dragged  in  the  dirt,  irrevocably.     It  tortured  him  to  think  that 


178  JORN     UHL 

he  had  not  independence  and  pluck  enough  to  step  into  the 
midst  of  that  company  and  say,  "Give  me  my  sister!"  He 
upbraided  himself,  saying  he  would  never  be  a  man.  "  I  shall 
aKva3's  be  a  mere  looker-on,"  he  said,  "  and  do  my  work  in  the 
fields  and  stables,  and  be  used  as  an  underling  as  long  as  I 
live,  just  as  my  father  said  I  would." 

While  he  was  still  in  the  midst  of  these  gloomy  thoughts, 
the  door  that  led  to  the  back  of  the  house  was  flung  open  of  a 
sudden,  and  drunken  shouts  were  heard.  The  door  shut  again, 
and  then  swift,  light  footsteps  approached  the  dark  hall.  He 
opened  his  bedroom  door.  His  sister  almost  fell  into  his  arms, 
and  her  breath  came  in  little  gasps.  "  I've  run  away  from  him," 
she  said. 

"  H  you  behave  like  this,  sister,"  he  said,  "  there'll  be  no 
good  come  of  it.     How  can  you  be  such  a  madcap?  " 

"  I've  just  had  about  enough  of  it,"  she  said,  and  went  to  the 
old  chest  by  the  window  and  sat  dangling  her  legs  from  it, 
just  as  she  had  done  so  often  as  a  child. 

"Let  me  tell  you  something,  Elsbe.  It  won't  be  ten  years 
before  the  Heinsens'll  be  hunted,  bag  and  baggage,  from  their 
farms,  and'll  be  selling  hay  and  chaff  in  Hamburg.  You 
can  take  my  word  for  it." 

She  slid  down  from  the  chest  and  peeped  out  of  the  window. 
"  I  just  wonder  whether  he's  looking  for  me.  Why  aren't 
30U  in  bed  j^et,  Jorn?  I  told  him  I  was  going  to  run  away 
to  you,  but  I  thought  you'd  be  in  bed  and  have  your  door  shut. 
Then  I  should  have  run  to  the  barn.     I  was  in  such  a  fright." 

He  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  "  I  couldn't  go  to 
bed.  I  couldn't  help  thinking  about  what  you  were  doing  all 
this  time." 

"What  do  you  suppose  I'd  be  doing?" 

"  Hitherto  you've  always  done  what  I've  asked  you,  Elsbe." 

She  darted  a  hasty  look  at  him.  "  My  dear  old  wiseacre 
of  a  brother,  what  good  is  that  to  me?  "  She  laughed.  Then 
she  looked  out  of  the  window  again.  "  Strange  that  he's  not 
after  me.  I'll  just  give  a  look  out  of  the  kitchen  door.  He 
must  have  thought  I'd  run  around  by  the  garden.  So  just 
go  to  bed,  Jorn.     Happy  dreams." 

She  was  ofif  again  before  he  could  say  a  word.  The  rain 
began  to  patter  afresh  against  the  dark  window-panes.  Out 
of  the  depths  of  the  night  there  came  the  dark,  huge  rustle  of 


JORN     UHL  179 

the  poplars ;  and  as  he  listened  to  these  sounds  of  the  darkness, 
they  soothed  his  soul,  and  for  awhile  he  surrendered  himself  to 
them  heart  and  will. 

But  as  he  was  still  walking  up  and  down  his  room  in  this 
weak  and  nerveless  brooding,  there  came  a  sound  from  outside 
through  the  rain,  like  a  bird  shyly  trying  its  first  notes  in  March. 
He  clearly  recognized  his  sister's  voice.  At  the  same  instant, 
as  with  a  great  bound,  he  was  out  of  his  dreams;  he  clenched 
his  hands  in  his  rage.  There  was  a  short  struggle  with  the  ir- 
resoluteness  of  youth  and  with  the  shyness  which  long  jears 
of  ill-treatment  in  his  father's  house  had  forced  upon  him.  In 
an  instant,  in  this  outburst  of  rage,  the  man  in  him  was  born. 
It  was  like  a  young,  well-bred  horse  that  stands  on  the  edge  of 
a  forest  with  hanging  head,  lost  in  dreams,  till  the  sudden  ring 
of  an  axe  in  the  depths  of  the  forest  startles  it,  and  it  is  suddenly 
all  eye  and  life. 

He  tore  the  door  open,  and  rushed  into  the  kitchen  and 
looked  out  into  the  darkness.  He  caught  sight  of  his  sister 
standing  near  the  willows  in  close  embrace  with  Harro  Hein- 
sen.  He  laid  his  hand  on  her  shoulder,  and  in  a  stern,  author- 
itative voice  bade  her  go  indoors.  "  For  you''  said  he,  "  I'm 
responsible." 

For  an  instant  she  was  inclined  to  defy  him,  but  finally  she 
obeyed,  and  went  with  him.  Harro  Heinsen  turned  away  with 
a  forced  laugh  and  went  back  into  the  front  room.  Jorn  Uhl 
had  led  his  sister  in  by  the  hand,  as  he  had  often  done  when 
he  was  still  a  boy,  and  left  her  standing  in  the  middle  of  his 
room.  He  strode  up  and  down  the  room,  and  as  he  looked  at 
her,  he  obser\'ed  her  beauty  and  the  delicacy  of  her  limbs,  which 
in  spite  of  their  smallness  and  plumpness  were  of  a  light  and 
graceful  build,  and  made  her  appear  taller  than  many  a  girl 
of  the  same  stature.  She  looked  what  she  really  was  —  a 
woman  in  the  first  blush  of  her  beauty.  In  her  demeanor,  as 
well  as  in  her  brown  eyes  and  in  her  cheeks,  he  plainly  saw 
the  unconcealed  glow  of  passion. 

"  What's  the  meaning  of  all  this?  "  he  said. 

"  I  must  have  some  one  to  love,"  she  answered,  defiantly. 

"  There's  no  \\\\xr\  about  that.  Other  suitors  will  come, 
who  at  least  will  be  able  to  give  you  bread." 

"  Tush !  Bread !  Is  that  what  you  asked  for,  when  you 
wanted  to  go  oft  with  the  Sand-lass?     Was  it  for  the  sake  of 


i8o  JORN     UHL 

bread  that  you  wanted  to  go  with  her?  I  tell  you  it's  weari- 
some sitting  here  in  this  big,  dreary  house,  year  after  year,  where 
one  sees  nothing  but  green  willows  and  drunken  brothers.  Or, 
perhaps,  you  think  I  ought  to  rust  and  pine  away  to  death?  " 

"God  forbid!"  said  he.  "What  misery  is  this!  You're 
going  to  ruin,  and  I  shall  be  left  quite  alone." 

"  But  if  I  will  it,  who's  to  stop  me?  I  suppose  my  will  is 
my  own  ?     I  don't  make  you  responsible." 

Then  his  fury  mastered  him,  and  he  gnashed  his  teeth.  "  I 
will  not  have  it,  I  tell  you.  To-morrow  I'll  take  you  out  of 
this.  You  shall  go  to  Thiess  Thiessen's.  He's  your  mother's 
only  brother.  Afterward,  I'll  see  that  you  get  a  proper  sit- 
uation in  some  respectable  family,  many  a  mile  away  from  here, 
so  that  you  may  forget  all  about  Harro  Heinsen.  .  .  .  Do  you 
hear,  girl?  I  swear  I'll  make  you  hear  me.  I'm  determined 
that  you  sha'n't  take  one  of  these  topers  for  a  husband,  but 
you  shall  have  a  man  of  my  sort  —  one  who  can,  and  will,  work. 
Let  father  and  brothers  say  what  they  like,  in  this  I'll  put  up 
with  no  interference." 

"I  don't  want  to!  I  will  have  him.  Rather  a  single  day 
with  him  than  ten  years  with  one  like  you." 

But  when  she  had  said  that,  she  threw  herself  on  the  chair, 
hiding  her  face  in  her  hands  on  the  table,  and  said,  in  the 
midst  of  her  sobs,  "  This  all  comes  of  having  no  mother. 
Mother!  mother!  Oh,  what  am  I  to  do?  If  I  love  him  so, 
is  that  my  fault?  But  I  know  —  I  know  it'll  turn  out  bad, 
and  that  I'll  have  to  rue  it  all  my  days." 

While  she  was  weeping  and  crying  out  in  this  way,  Jorn 
stood  there  gazing  gloomily  out  into  the  night,  and  could 
answer  her  nothing.  He  waited  till  she  had  wept  herself 
quieter,  and  then  took  her  by  the  hand  and  led  her  to  her  room, 
where  Wieten  Klook  already  lay  fast  asleep. 

Next  morning,  while  day  was  still  breaking,  he  went  to  the 
sitting-room,  which  he  never  entered  on  other  occasions,  sat 
down  at  his  father's  desk,  and  wrote  a  letter  to  Thiess  Thiessen. 
Whatever  might  be  said  against  the  style  and  writing  thereof, 
the  spirit  that  prompted  it  was  good: 


<( 


Dear  Thiess:  —  This  is  to  let  you  know  that  I  am  send- 
ing Elsbe  to  you  this  afternoon,  for  I  don't  want  her  to  go  to 
the  bad.    She  ought  to  marry  a  proper  sort  of  man ;   it's  all  the 


JORN     UHL  i8i 

same  what  he  is,  even  a  farm-Iaborer'll  do,  if  he's  honest. 
I  was  j^oin^  to  keep  watch  over  her  myself,  h'ke  a  dog  over 
a  lien-roost,  but  the  nights  are  long  and  dark,  and  1  sleep 
sound.  And  her  time  is  come.  You  know  how  it  is  on  a  farm 
when  May-day  comes  around  —  the  whole  stable  is  restless ; 
so  it's  better  for  me  to  take  her  off  to  another  pasture,  and 
you'll  have  to  look  after  her;  keep  your  eyes  open.  Let  her 
sleep  in  the  room  next  to  yours,  or  even  in  your  own  room. 
You  could  put  the  bed  under  Africa.  Jurgen  Uhl." 

He  sent  the  stable-boy  on  horseback  over  to  the  Haze  with 
this  letter.  But  toward  afternoon,  when  the  others  had  left 
the  farm  to  go  to  the  horse-fair  in  the  village,  or,  in  other  words, 
to  use  the  horse-fair  as  an  excuse  for  sitting  in  the  public- 
house,  he  thought  he'd  have  time  to  take  her  over  himself. 

So  he  put  the  two  heavy  bays  into  the  old-fashioned  basket- 
cart,  which  his  mother  had  used  in  times  gone  by  when  she  was 
a  girl  and  had  had  to  drive  into  town  for  lessons.  He  and 
Elsbe  now  drove  through  the  village,  on  their  way  to  Thiess 
Thiesscn's,  and  he  noticed  in  the  good-humored  laughter  with 
which  his  sister  greeted  him  an  expression  of  strangely  blended 
good-will  and  derision. 

As  they  drove  past  the  inn,  the  Uhls  and  the  Heinsens  and 
many  others  were  sitting  there,  and  old  Dominie  Peters,  who 
had  some  savings-bank  business  to  discuss,  was  standing  outside 
near  the  open  window.  Looking  up  from  their  cards  the 
players  caught  sight  of  the  vehicle,  and  immediately  there  was 
an  outburst  of  questions  and  laughter. 

"  Why,  there's  Jorn  there.  That's  a  sight  for  sore  ej'es!  Gad  ! 
he's  an  old-fashioned  customer,   this  son  of  yours,   Uhl." 

Old  Uhl  stood  up,  red  in  the  face,  and  in  his  embarrass- 
ment, could  think  of  nothing  better  to  do  than  to  come  to  the 
open  window  and  jeer  at  his  own  children. 

His  son  heard  his  words,  and  knew  the  tone  as  well  as  the 
face  that  accompanied  them,  but  steadfastly  kept  his  eyes  from 
looking  in  his  fath.er's  direction.  He  sat  motionless,  stooping 
for^vard  a  little,  and  flicking  leisurely  with  his  whip  at  the 
broad  backs  of  the  horses.  He  heard  his  father  shout  some 
rude  jest  into  the  room,  and  heard  the  loud  laughter  that  fol- 
lowed.   Then  they  got  out  of  hearing. 

"  See,  Elsbe,"  he  said,  "  that's  what  our  father's  come  to. 


i82  JORN     UHL 

He  was  afraid  lest  they  should  laugh  at  him,  so  he  turned  and 
pointed  his  finger  at  us;  he  encouraged  these  people  to  laugh 
at  us,  Elsbe,  his  two  youngest  children.  So  you  can  see  what 
sort  of  a  father  we  have." 

And  in  his  anger  he  uttered  an  oath,  and  swore  that  no 
matter  how  wretched  his  father  might  come  to  be,  no  matter  how 
much  he  might  need  his  son's  help,  that  he  would  not  lift  a 
finger  for  him. 

It  all  turned  out  very  differently  afterward,  however,  as  we 
shall  see. 

He  had  now,  as  he  thought,  placed  his  sister  in  safe-keeping, 
and  found  himself  back  as  head-servant  at  the  Uhl.  It  was 
not  long  before  he  saw  that  the  Uhl,  as  well  as  other  farms 
in  the  neighborhood,  was  in  a  bad  way,  and  he  was  sure  that 
the  end  could  not  be  much  longer  postponed. 

There  were  certain  signs  that  people  had  noticed,  and  certain 
reports  and  rumors  afloat  excited  folk's  minds  to  the  utmost. 
There  was  a  general  feeling  of  unrest  in  the  air,  as  in  a  heavy 
thunder-storm,  when  people  have  seen  the  lightning  strike,  and 
are  standing  waiting  to  see  the  "  red  bird  "  fly  up  from  the  roof. 

A  man  in  uniform  visited  some  of  the  farms,  and  everybody 
was  asking  who  he  was.  No  one  had  ever  seen  this  man  and 
this  uniform  before.  And  when  a  certain  shrewd  fellow  guessed 
that  he  could  be  no  other  than  a  bailiff,  and  when  it  was 
known  that  Junge  Siek  had  said  in  a  drunken  fit  that  he  would 
have  to  leave  his  beautiful  farm,  and  that  it  cut  him  to  the 
heart  to  do  it,  for  the  sake  of  his  children,  the  news  spread  like 
wild-fire,  and  all  the  village  laborers  and  artisans  stood  wait- 
ing on  their  doorsteps  beneath  the  leafless  lindens  that  dark, 
cloudy  November  day,  and  there  were  lights  in  the  village 
windows  till  late  at  night.  That  same  day,  Alick,  Uhl's  eldest 
son,  drove  up  to  the  farm  with  his  wife  and  his  three  children. 
They  had  an  elegant  buggy,  and  his  wife,  who  in  her  girlhood 
had  attended  a  ladies'  college  in  Hamburg,  was  wearing  a  big 
evening  cloak  lined  with  some  dark  fur.  She  wished  Jorn 
"  Good  day  "  with  a  grand  air,  and  marched  into  the  house. 
Alick  followed  more  quietly,  while  Jorn  unharnessed  the  horses 
and  returned  to  his  work.  About  an  hour  afterward,  however, 
he  had  to  go  into  the  house  to  ask  his  father  about  some  business 
or  other,  and  found  his  brother  standing  in  the  middle  of  the 


JORN     UHL  183 

room  gesticulating  v\  ilclly,  in  great  excitement.  He  was  dressed 
and  ready  to  go,  and  he  had  his  greatcoat  and  fur  cap  on,  and 
his  whip  in  his  hand.  Jorn  heard  him  shouting  angrily  at  his 
father:  "What  have  you  taught  us?  Just  tell  me  —  what 
have  you  taught  us?  To  keep  our  heads  high,  to  walk  smartly, 
spend  plenty  of  money,  and  run  after  the  girls.  All  very  good 
things  in  their  way,  only  your  purse  wasn't  long  enough  for  it. 
Your  purse  v\asn't  half  as  long  as  you  wanted  to  make  out. 
The  whole  thing's  a  swindle  —  your  eternal  laughter  and  your 
bank-account,  and  your  silver-mounted  harness,  and  the  big 
family  vault,  and  mother's  coffin  with  the  velvet  pall  on  it. 
It  was  all  a  swindle,  I  say!  You're  much  too  big  for  your 
boots!  You  and  the  whole  set  that  guzzle  with  you,  you're 
nothing  but  a  pack  of  rogues  and  swindlers.  And  it's  your 
sons  who  have  to  pay  for  your  folly." 

Klaus  Uhl,  his  father,  sat  in  the  corner  of  the  sofa,  gazing 
helplessly  before  him;  and  his  youngest  son,  who  stood  trans- 
fixed on  the  threshold,  now  for  the  first  time  saw  that  his  father 
could  look  grave  and  even  frightened,  and  that  he  was  an 
elderly  man  of  unhealthy  appearance. 

"If  mother  had  lived,  there'd  have  been  at  least  one  sensible 
person  on  the  farm ;  but  we  stupid  fools  used  to  despise  her. 
Ah,  mother!  Why,  she  was  the  good  angel  in  the  house,  but 
as  for  you,  you  have  dragged  everything  in  the  dirt.  I  can 
see  what's  coming.  We'll  have  to  leave  our  farms  in  the  same 
state  as  Hans  Meyer  had  to  leave  his.  He  had  to  go  away 
with  a  bag  of  wheat  on  a  wheelbarrow,  and  his  child  walked  at 
his  side  with  half  a  loaf  of  bread.  Such  things  don't  happen 
in  a  natural  way.     T.he  devil's  had  a  hand  in  it." 

He  was  turning  to  go,  when  he  saw  iiis  youngest  brother 
standing  behind  him.  "  Ah,"  said  he,  "  you're  a  sly  fox,"  and 
he  slapped  him  hard  on  the  shoulder.  "  In  spite  of  your  one 
and  twenty  years,  you've  got  more  sense  than  that  fellow  there 
with  his  sixty.  We  have  wrapped  everything  in  silk,  and 
poured  wine  over  it  till  we  no  longer  knew  what  we  had  in  our 
hands.  But  you  can  sec  things  as  they  really  are.  You  needn't 
pull  such  a  shy  face,  man.  Think  of  me,  Provost,  when  thou 
comest  into  thy  kingdom.  You've  got  the  stuff  in  you  to  find 
one.  It  won't  be  the  Uhl,  though.  That  fellow  there  has 
squandered  it  in  drink." 

This  was  the  fashion  in  which  Klaus  Uhl's  eldest  son  took 


i84  JORN     UHL 

leave  of  his  father's  proud  roof.  It  was  a  farm  more  valuable 
than  many  a  nobleman's  estate.  Afterward,  when  he  was  an 
elderly  man  and  used  to  drive  down  from  Ringelshdrn  to  the 
distant  Fens  in  his  miserable  little  cart  for  seaweed,  he  always 
sat  in  such  a  position  as  to  avoid  seeing  the  Uhl,  which  lay  so 
broad  and  safe  down  there  beneath  its  mighty  poplars,  whose 
heads  had  been  bent  toward  the  east  by  the  everlasting  breezes 
from  the  sea. 

Many  other  farmers,  too,  were  ruined  at  this  time.  Care 
thundered  with  heavy  hand  against  the  doors  of  the  firm-set 
old  farmhouses,  and  their  inmates  paced  up  and  down  in  the 
long,  dark  halls,  refusing  to  open  their  doors.  And  inside,  in 
the  little  rooms,  there  were  women  sitting  and  weeping,  and 
children  full  of  heavy,  nameless  forebodings. 

On  one  farm  the  wife  herself  put  the  brown  horses  into  the 
cart,  and  put  on  the  silver-mounted  harness,  and  drove  into 
town  and  asked  the  magistrates  for  a  declaration  of  her  hus- 
band's incapacity.  She  spread  out  before  them  the  documents 
which  she  had  brought  with  her,  and  showed  how  much  of  her 
own  marriage  dowry  he  had  squandered.  She  placed  the  little 
lad  she  had  with  her  on  the  green  table,  drew  down  his 
trousers,  and  showed  the  bruises  her  drunken  husband  had 
made,  and  she  bared  her  full,  white  bosom  and  showed  the 
marks  of  his  fingers,  and  demanded  that  she  should  be  made 
administrator  of  the  property. 

The  magistrate  was  a  young  man,  and  though  he  had  stood 
by  many  a  woman's  side,  he  had  never  yet  stood  face  to  face 
w^ith  one.  He  made  a  motion  toward  the  bell,  and  said  it 
wasn't  such  an  easy  matter,  according  to  law,  to  do  what  she 
wanted ;  and  then  he  began  to  recount  the  various  steps  it 
would  be  necessary  to  take.     They  were  many  and  intricate. 

Then  she  began  to  say  hard  things  about  the  law  of  her 
native  land,  maintaining  that  it  was  as  clumsy  as  an  old  cow, 
and  that  it  was  as  much  a  woman-hater  as  a  hardened  old 
baclielor.  Her  words  rang  right  through  the  office  into  the 
corridor.  And  at  last  she  said  there  was,  thank  God,  another 
sort  of  justice,  which  she  would  in  future  put  into  application. 
And  she  raised  her  hand  threateningly  to  illustrate  her  mean- 
ing. She  would  fmd  a  way  out  of  her  distress  without  magis- 
trates and  law-courts  —  a  cheaper  way,  too,  faith.  But  if  it 
should  happen  that  her  husband  should  some  fine  day  find  his 


JORN     UHL  185 

way  hither  to  complain  of  her,  then  they'd  better  send  him  back 
about  his  business;  else  she'd  give  him  such  a  drubbing  that 
he  wouldn't  be  able  to  stir  a  step  for  a  fortnight. 

In  this  way  did  this  wretched  woman  speak,  made  desperate 
by  her  long  years  of  misery,  and  then  drove  unmolested  home 
again.  Many  a  time  afterward  folks  saw  her  driving  through 
the  village,  always  with  two  smart  horses.  She  had  sold  the 
silver-mounted  harness  next  day ;  her  horses  pull  in  good  strong 
hempen  trappings  up  to  the  present  day,  and  she  looks  neither 
to  left  nor  right.  She  has  become  a  hard  woman.  The  farm- 
servants  and  produce-dealers  are  afraid  of  her;  her  children 
have  turned  out  well  —  the  boys  a  little  shy,  and  the  girls 
strong-willed  women.  Her  husband  shuffled  out  of  life  one 
day  after  sneaking  along  the  walls  of  his  own  house  for  many 
a  year.  He  lies  buried  in  a  neglected  grave,  near  that  of  one 
of  his  workmen,  old  Peter  Back,  which  is  always  kept  fresh 
and  neat.  It  is  said  that  the  wife  of  one  of  his  sons  once 
quietly  tidied  up  the  farmer's  grave,  but  the  widow  found  it 
out,  and  got  seeds  of  stinging  nettles  from  a  weed  plot  near, 
and  sowed  them  on  it.  And  what  made  this  more  remarkable 
was  the  story  that  older  folk  of  the  village  told  how,  long  ago 
on  her  wedding-day,  she  had  not  been  able  to  contain  herself 
for  happiness,  and  how,  after  their  mutual  "  Yes  "  had  been 
exchanged,  she  had  thrown  her  arms  around  her  young  hus- 
band's neck,  laughing  and  weeping  at  the  same  time,  without 
caring  a  jot  for  the  people  who  were  there.  Out  of  love  so 
warm  there  had  come  such  bitter  hate. 

That  winter,  too,  William  Ironsides  drove  through  the  village 
in  his  chaise  cart  for  the  last  time.  His  family  dwelt  at  the 
crossroads,  opposite  the  new  churchyard,  on  the  high,  proud 
Wurth.  Wurth  is  the  name  given  in  those  districts  to  the 
ancient  mounds  on  the  remnants  of  early  settlement  and  civi- 
lization. According  to  the  church  rolls,  the  Ironsides  have  lived 
there  for  the  last  four  hundred  years  and  more.  The  three- 
cornered  ploughshare,  from  which  they  got  their  name,  still 
hangs  as  a  sign  over  the  door  of  their  house  and  on  the  family 
pew  at  church.  One  evening,  just  before  Christmas,  Farmer 
Ironsides'  brother,  who  was  a  well-known  surgeon  in  Ham- 
burg, came  on  a  visit  to  him.  His  friend,  the  county  chairman, 
had  written  to  him,  saying  that  if  he  wished  to  give  his  brother 
a  word  of  timely  warning  it  was  high  time  that  he  should  do  so. 


i86  JORN     UHL 

He  came,  and  after  taking  great  pains  to  learn  the  real  state 
of  affairs,  was  soon  convinced  that  he  had  come  too  late.  Once 
a  year  it  had  been  his  great  delight  to  get  away  from  the  narrow 
confinement  of  the  big  city  and  revel  in  the  fields  and  marshes 
around  his  native  village.  He  loved  to  recall  his  happy  boy- 
hood there,  and  to  revisit  all  the  old  rooms  and  barns,  and 
every  meadow  and  orchard.  That  evening  he  went  over  the 
farm  for  the  last  time,  looking  into  every  ditch,  and  into  the 
branches  of  every  ash-tree,  and  at  last  he  came  to  the  old  house, 
and  laid  his  head  against  the  door-post  and  wept. 

And  then  there  was  Stark  Behrens,  who  had  always  been 
so  much  cleverer  than  everybody  else.  He  also  had  now  to  come 
down  from  his  cart  and  go  the  rest  of  life's  journey  on  foot. 
His  children  were  already  grown  up  and  his  hair  was  gray. 
For  five  and  thirty  years  he  had  dwelt  on  his  beautiful  farm, 
and  had  always  talked  like  a  shrewd  fellow,  and  had  liked 
giving  every  one  advice,  and  had  lamented  the  general  lack 
of  common  sense  in  all  the  farmers  around  about.  "  Farm 
management?"  he  used  to  say.  "Nonsense!  Any  one  can 
manage  a  farm.  But  it  takes  a  smart  man  to  grow  rich  at  it." 
The  whole  country  around  believed  his  boasting.  There  were 
not  three  men  who  did  not  believe  it.  The  general  opinion 
was  that  Farmer  Behrens  was  a  sly  fox.  But  now  it  came 
out  that  in  all  those  five  and  thirty  years  he  had  never  from 
first  to  last  known  the  amount  of  his  debts  or  assets,  and  had 
not  the  faintest  idea  whether  they  were  increasing  or  diminish- 
ing. He  had  been  not  a  fox  but  an  ass.  His  accounts  were 
as  tangled  as  a  girl's  hair  when  mischievous  lads  have  pelted 
her  with  burrs.  He  had  to  give  up  his  farm,  and  went  to 
each  of  his  seven  children,  whom  he  had  made  poor  and 
ridiculous.  He  went  from  house  to  house  in  turn,  and  they 
each  refused  to  take  him  in.  At  last  he  found  an  odd  corner 
to  sit  and  die  in  at  the  house  of  his  old  sister  in  town,  whose 
husband  had  some  small  government  post  there. 

And  Jan  Wieck,  who  had  for  many  years  been  overseer  of 
the  dikes,  had  also  to  leave  his  farm  and  go  to  Hamburg, 
whither  his  three  sons  had  gone  before  him.  There  he  sat 
all  day  long  in  a  dirty  little  room  which  opened  on  to  the 
yard,  and  received  a  crust  from  his  children,  which  they  salted 
for  him  with  jeers  and  bitter  words.  Of  an  evening  he  used 
to  go  and   earn   a  few   pence  for  a  drink  by  setting  up  the 


J  O  R  N     U  H  L  187 

pins  for  the  players  in  a  skittle  alley.  Every  Monday,  how- 
ever, he  used  to  put  on  his  long,  yellow,  shabby  oilskin,  which 
he  had  once  worn  in  the  days  of  his  glory  as  dike  overseer, 
and  go  to  the  cattle-market ;  there  he  would  talk  with  the 
country-folk  from  his  district  who  had  come  to  market,  and 
would  laugh  and  talk,  loudly  and  shrewdly  enough,  and  say 
how  he  liked  being  in  Hamburg,  and  what  a  pleasant  life  he 
was  leading  there.  And  then  he  would  accompany  these 
Wentorfers  to  the  railway  station  and  wave  them  good-by,  and 
return  to  his  sunless,  desolate  room  and  beat  his  head  and  weep, 
crying:  "  Oh,  if  only  1  could  sit  just  for  once  again  beneath 
the  spreading  lindens  on  my  beautiful  old  farm!  Just  for 
once  again!  How  I  would  work  and  strive  and  save,  and 
I  would  never  let  a  single  drop  pass  my  lips  again  as  long  as 
I  lived." 

And  it  came  to  Klaus  Uhl's  turn.  When  he  passed  through 
the  village  there  was  no  outward  sign  of  the  distress  he  was 
in.  He  was  never  more  arrogant  toward  poor  folk  than  in 
those  last  days  at  the  Uhl,  when  he  no  longer  owned  either 
stick  or  stone  upon  it.  He  still  had  that  soft,  roguish  smile 
about  his  lips,  and  when  he  drove  through  the  village  with 
his  spick-and-span  vehicle,  stared  at  by  the  crowds  of  children 
and  villagers,  he  still  wore  his  dignified  look.  He  was  crushed 
beneath  the  weight  of  his  own  importance,  like  the  king's  fool 
w  hen  he  drives  to  court  through  the  gaping  mob. 

And  Hinnerk  and  Hans  Uhl  and  other  young  people  came 
driving  through  the  village  toward  morning.  They  came  from 
the  fairs  and  dancing-booths.  Their  horses  were  tired  and 
ill-tempered,  and  their  zigzag  course  made  the  carts  jolt;  some 
of  the  drivers  were  sleepy,  others  were  growling  drowsily  at  the 
horses. 

That  evening  the  laborers  and  artisans  had  plenty  to  talk 
about.  The  younger  ones  said  airily,  "  The  earth  revolves,  so 
of  course  men  cannot  but  slip  and  fall.  Some  slide  down  off 
the  Wurths,  others  slide  up  on  to  them.  Why  have  they  been 
living  like  savages?"  The  old  men  spoke  about  the  fathers 
and  grandfathers  of  the  ruined  farmers.  How  hard-working, 
simple,  upright,  and  stern  they  had  been.  But  they  also  tried 
to  bring  heavy  sins  home  to  their  ancestors,  sins  which,  they 
said,  though  unrevenged  till  now,  were  at  last  being  visited 
on   the  children.     They   remembered    cases   of   cruel   severity 


i88  J  O  R  N     U  H  L 

or  of  cunning  and  unscrupulous  legacy-hunting,  and  of  swift, 
violent  deeds.  Many  who  saw  how  these  old  farmer  families 
were  dazzled  by  pride  —  how  they  were  wilfully  ruining  them- 
selves, had  the  feeling  that  these  men  were  doomed  to  perish, 
and  had,  against  their  will,  to  obey  some  pitiless  predestination. 
A  nameless  fear  came  upon  many,  as  though  some  superhuman 
and  terrible  power  were  stalking  unseen  along  the  streets  and 
roads,  touching  sane  men,  and  unhinging  their  minds.  Jorn 
Uhl,  even  before  he  had  gone  into  the  army,  had  been  wont  to 
stand  aside  and  view  all  these  wild  doings  from  a  distance, 
just  as  a  worker  in  some  clay-field  by  the  wayside  might  see  mad 
horses  careering  past  along  the  road  and  then  bend  over  his 
spade  again.  But  Jorn  had  not  knowledge  and  insight  enough 
in  those  days.  Sometimes  he  had  in  secret  condemned  the  wild 
life  of  these  men  and  foreseen  their  evil  end ;  but  at  other 
times  again,  he  had  had  doubts  whether  his  judgment  was  right. 
But  in  the  course  of  years  his  mind  had  grown  maturer  and 
clearer.  He  now  stood  on  his  own  feet  and  calmly  regarded 
them.  "  There  they  go  rollicking  on  in  their  wild  career, 
and  now  they  fall  into  the  pit."  And  a  dim  consciousness  in 
him  said,  "  Your  path,  Jorn  Uhl,  has  by  Fate's  dispensation  been 
different  from  theirs,  so  far,  and  shall  by  your  own  will  always 
continue  to  be  different.  Nothing  in  life  schools  character  like 
the  sight  of  our  fellow  mortals'  destiny." 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

JoRN  Uhl  was  now  doubly  lonely.  First,  because  his  father 
and  brothers,  as  well  as  his  comrades  of  his  own  age  and  stand- 
ing, all  went  other  ways;  secondly,  because  in  his  inmost  soul 
there  was  a  great  and  beautiful  chamber,  a  temple  of  religion. 
He  longed  to  furnish  out  this  chamber  or  temple,  for  it  was 
empty,  and  to  celebrate  high  festivals  there.  But  he  did  not 
know  how  to  set  about  it.  There  was  nobody  there  who  could 
point  out  his  way  to  him. 

It  happened  one  afternoon  that  everybody  had  left  the  house 
and  gone  to  Meldorf  Fair  except  Wieten,  who  was  sitting 
sewing  by  the  window.  Toward  evening,  when  the  twilight 
was  dim  in  the  room,  he  went  along  the  passage  just  in  that 
frame  of  mind  when  thoughts  have  no  point  to  them,  but  lie 
in  a  great,  endless  level,  like  the  far  and  wide  and  endless 
marsh-land  —  but  it  is  fertile  soil.  As  he  went  through  the 
long,  high  hall  toward  the  open  door,  he  saw  the  moonlight 
lying  like  a  carpet  of  Orient  gold  and  silver  along  the  floor. 
Looking  out,  he  saw  the  moon,  which  was  now  in  her  third 
quarter,  rising  sU^wly  over  Ringelshcirn,  spreading  all  her  golden 
glory  over  the  earth  and  over  the  heath  and  the  oak  copses  by 
the  Goldsoot. 

Jorn  Uhl  stood  gazing  at  the  wonder,  and  his  drowsing 
thoughts  raised  themselves  slowly  and  stiffly,  like  a  man  that 
has  been  asleep  hundreds  of  years,  and  became  alert.  "  Mare 
Nubium,"  he  said  to  himself,  and  a  roguish  look  flitted  over 
his  face,  as  when  a  man,  after  long  years  of  separation,  dis- 
covers in  some  friend  the  oddities  he  knew  in  him  when  he 
was  a  boy.  After  he  had  looked  at  the  moon  awhile,  he  turned 
around  meditatively  and  went  to  his  room.  From  the  bottom 
of  his  old  chest  he  brought  forth  a  long,  much-dinted  spy- 
glass. He  had  purchased  it  in  some  second-hand  shop  at  Rends- 
burg  in  the  first  year  of  his  service  as  a  soldier.     He  came  back 

189 


I90  JORN     UHL 

to  the  doorway  and  looked  at  the  moon ;  and  all  the  merry 
elves  and  spirits  that  saw  him  standing  there  in  his  short, 
blue  linen  jumper;  all  the  house  spirits  of  the  Uhl  who  ride 
on  the  rafters,  and  the  troop  that  squats  at  midnight  on  the 
roof-ridge  and  swings  on  the  poplar  twigs;  and  all  those 
eerie,  crouching  forms  on  the  old  heath  that  are  midway  between 
man  and  beast  in  body  and  soul ;  all  these  far-seeing,  lubberly, 
inert,  dreamy  creatures,  and  everything  else  in  the  country 
around  of  the  species  that  Heer  at  astronomy  and  every  other 
science,  and  are  kith  and  kin  with  Nature,  sucking  and  smatch- 
ing  at  her  breasts,  and  feeding  there  with  laughter  and  throes 
of  pain  and  tears;  —  all  these  strange  beings  now  rejoiced 
over  Jorn  Uhl. 

"  Good  luck,  good  luck  to  him,  he's  got  his  love  again." 
Jorn  Uhl  gazed  up  at  the  moon  and  called  the  different 
seas  by  their  names,  and  knew  the  mountain  ranges,  and  felt 
happy  at  remembering  all  their  titles.  And  suddenly,  while 
he  was  watching  intently,  the  telescope  revealed  to  him  clearly 
for  the  first  time  the  different  craters.  He  uttered  a  low 
cry  as  he  saw  the  clear  gleam  that  the  old  book  he  had  in  the 
chest  spoke  of.  He  saw  up  there  in  the  blue  sky  how  the 
mountain-peaks  around  the  "  Mare  Nectar  "  were  aglow  in 
the  morning  sun.  For  a  long  time  he  stood  watching;  and 
gradually,  in  order  to  get  the  full  flavor  of  this  delight,  his 
thoughts  wandered  into  strange,  solitary  places  and  communed 
with  themselves,  thinking  how  different  he  was  from  the  other 
young  fellows  who  were  now  drinking  at  Meldorf  Fair  and 
running  after  the  girls.  He,  on  the  contrary,  had  been  plough- 
ing all  day,  and  now  it  was  night  he  was  looking  at  the  moon 
and  studying  the  truths  of  science. 

All  the  while  that  Jorn  Uhl's  thoughts  were  away  on  such 
high  and  breakneck  paths,  all  around  him  the  air,  the  trees, 
and  the  heathy  slopes  were  full  of  life,  and  he  neither  knew 
nor  saw  it.  Up  there,  not  far  from  the  Goldsoot,  in  the  direc- 
tion in  which  Jorn  had  turned  his  spy-glass,  in  a  little  hollow 
surrounded  by  bracken  and  protected  from  the  west  wind,  there 
were  lying  on  the  old  bed  of  last  year's  oak  leaves,  seven 
Children  of  the  Heath,  side  by  side  —  a  beautiful  brood,  brown- 
skinned  and  always  young,  with  long,  dark,  smooth  hair  and 
with  eyes  unfathomably  deep,  which,  according  to  mortals' 
judgment,  have  something  dull  and  glassy  in  their  gleam,  and 


JORN     UHL  191 

eyelashes  too  long  and  silky.  Whoever  has  seen  them  knows 
it  is  true.  They  were  telling  one  another  ahout  the  laughing- 
eyed  maidens  they  had  seen  passing  by  that  afterncjon  along 
the  heath  track  on  their  way  to  market;  and  then  they  came 
to  speak  of  t^lsbe  Uhl.  For  they  liked  talking  of  Elsbe  Uhl, 
because  she  was  like  them  and  akin  to  them  in  this,  that  she 
was  weak  of  will  and  gave  herself  up  to  the  present  and  took 
love  for  her  right.  The  seven  had  seen  how  Harro  Heinsen 
a  few  nights  ago  came  riding  straight  across  the  heath  on  his 
brown  mare,  and  how  he  had  tied  her  to  the  silver  birch  that 
stood  by  the  Haze  Farm,  beneath  Thiess  Thiessen's  window, 
and  how  Thiess  Thiessen  had  slept  and  heard  no  sound,  not 
a  rustle,  and  they  knew  how  little  Elsbe  was  to  meet  Harro 
Heinsen  to-day  at  the  Fair ;    and  they  said : 

"  I'o-night  she'll  come  this  way,  and  to-night  she'll  fall  into 
his  hands  here  by  the  Goldsoot." 

And  that  is  why  they  had  come  together,  and  as  they  thought 
of  it  and  talked  it  over  their  faces  did  not  change.  They  re- 
mained long-lashed  and  drowsy-looking,  indifferent  and  pensive 
as  before.  Thus  they  lay  there,  then,  and  waited,  for  they,  the 
frank,  free  children  of  Nature,  liked  to  see  Nature's  strength 
in  the  passions  of  mortals. 

They  passed  their  time  by  telling  stories  of  old  things  and 
new:  of  that  old,  dirty,  greedy  farmer  who,  thirty  years  ago, 
had  come  with  spade  and  crowbar,  and  had  attempted  with  rude, 
false  words  to  rob  the  Goldsoot  of  its  treasure.  They  had 
frightened  the  fellow  away.  With  wild,  brown  bodies  erect, 
and  eyes  like  the  expiring  glow  of  coals,  they  had  suddenly 
appeared  above  the  edge  of  the  valley,  and  made  him  rush 
away  screaming  with  terror.  On  the  third  day,  after  wildest 
visions,  he  was  dead.  And  they  spoke,  too,  of  a  pretty  lad 
who,  one  cold  April  night,  six  years  ago,  had  gone  down  into 
the  pool,  and  had  since  vanished  away  into  foreign  lands.  And 
they  thought  how  again  to-night  they  were  going  to  cast  their 
wonted  spell  over  a  man  now  on  his  way  thither  —  a  spell  that 
should  make  him  throw  caution  and  prudence  and  the  last 
vestige  of  self-restraint  to  the  winds,  and  let  the  nature  that 
w^as  in  him  have  its  way. 

And  when  evening  was  past  and  the  night  was  come  and 
they  were  still  talking  over  what  was  to  happen  and  how  it 
was  to  be  brought  about,  —  for  this  race  is  fickle  and  limp  in 


192  J  O  R  N     U  H  L 

will,  heavy-handed  and  sweeping  in  execution,  dreams  are  its 
strength  and  sorrows  its  delight,  —  two  young  people  canie  in 
sight,  walking  hand  in  hand  down  the  track  to  the  Goldsoot, 
which  shimmered  white  in  the  moonlight.  On  their  young 
faces  lay  that  sacred,  earnest  joy  which  lights  up  the  human 
countenance  when  everything  good  has  been  aroused  in  the 
soul  and  summoned  to  action.  All  the  most  beautiful  and 
hallowed  things  within  them,  mutual  trust  and  love  and  good- 
will, beamed  from  their  fresh,  innocent  faces,  and  in  their  eyes 
there  was  a  glitter  as  of  golden  weapons  to  fight  against  every- 
thing evil. 

About  twenty  years  ago,  soon  after  the  surrender  of  the 
Schleswig-Holstein  troops,  a  family  of  Wentorf  Grays  had 
emigrated  to  South  Africa,  and  had  later  on  joined  a  troop 
of  trekking  Boers,  among  whom  were  several  Germans,  and 
had  settled  down  on  the  Crocodile  River.  There  they  had 
thatched  their  little  stone  hut  with  long  grass,  and,  after  the 
fashion  of  the  Boers,  had  attained  to  a  modest  competence 
and  a  somewhat  drowsy  prosperity.  They  had  taken  several 
children  with  them  from  Wentorf,  but  only  one  son  and  one 
daughter  had  survived.  The  daughter  was  married  to  a  young 
Dutchman ;  the  son  was  still  unmarried.  For  a  Cray  he  was 
somewhat  grave  by  nature,  and  seemed  unable  to  make  up  his 
mind  to  take  a  Dutch  wife.  He  used  to  say  to  his  parents  when 
they  pressed  him  to  marry,  "  I  was  too  old  when  I  left  home. 
I  was  ten,  then.  And  now  I  can't  accustom  myself  to  these 
foreign  girls.  If  I  found  a  lass  who  spoke  my  own  language 
I  might  venture  it." 

After  carefully  talking  over  this  diflficult  matter  between 
themselves,  his  parents  one  day  proposed  to  him  that  he  should 
take  a  trip  home  to  Holstein  and  look  at  his  cousins  there,  and 
afterward,  if  none  of  them  pleased  him,  cast  his  eye  on  the 
other  young  people  of  Wentorf,  and  marr>'  the  girl  he  chose 
right  off,  and  bring  her  back  with  him.  He  agreed,  after  his 
mother  had  smilingly  shaken  her  finger  at  him,  for  she  had 
hatched  this  plot.  So  he  came  back  home,  after  almost  twenty 
years,  on  a  similar  errand  to  that  of  Father  Jacob  of  old,  who 
also  went  in  search  of  a  wife. 

He  came  to  St.  Mariendonn,  went  from  house  to  house, 
delivered    his   kind    messages   from   home,   was   asked   many   a 


JORN     UHL  193 

question,  and  told  frankly  and  willingly  everything  he  knew 
of  that  unknown  land  and  of  his  parents'  circumstances,  and 
at  last  revealed  the  aim  of  his  long  journey.  But  this  revelation 
made  his  position  unpleasant,  and  it  became  very  difficult  for 
him  to  carry  out  his  intention,  for  now  everybody  looked  upon 
him  as  a  suitor.  Some  parents,  fearing  he  might,  by  his  good 
looks,  persuade  one  or  other  of  their  marriageable  daughters  to 
go  with  him,  treated  him  coldly.  Those  who  were  better  off 
among  his  kinsmen  got  the  idea  into  their  heads  that  this 
stranger  was  aiming  at  their  money-bags,  in  order  to  repair 
his  own  straitened  and  desperate  circumstances.  Some  who 
were  more  venturesome  or  had  more  confidence  in  him,  or  who 
had  daughters  already  on  the  shelf,  made  clumsy  attempts  to 
bring  the  young  people  together,  attempts  that  were  painful 
to  both  parties  concerned.  At  last,  to  cap  matters,  two  old 
people  came,  wishing  to  turn  an  honest  penny,  and  declared 
themselves  ready  to  provide  him  with  a  girl  with  a  certain 
dowry.  The  young  man  felt  so  disgusted  at  these  experiences 
that  he  lost  heart  and  determined  to  give  up  his  plan,  and  to 
go  home  by  the  next  ship  sailing  for  the  Cape. 

Just  at  this  point,  a  rogue,  who  heaiiily  wished  him  success 
in  his  search,  told  him  about  the  Fair  which  was  to  be  held 
next  day  in  Meldorf,  and  would  be  visited  by  all  the  daughters 
of  the  neighborhood.  This  philanthropist  was  a  student  of 
theologj^  an  artisan's  son  from  the  neighboring  marsh-lands. 
As  a  free-hearted  fellow  and  a  son  of  the  people  and  destined 
to  stand  among  the  people  all  his  life,  he  continued  his  friend- 
ship and  intercourse  with  his  comrades  of  the  board  school, 
and  trod  w  ith  them  the  well-known  paths  that  young  folk  love. 
Although  he  had  passed  many  a  merry  night  in  that  company, 
and  had  ridden  many  a  night  to  dances  on  a  horse  borrowed 
from  some  farmer,  and  although  he  had  looked  into  the  laughing 
eyes  of  many  a  maiden,  he  never,  wondrous  to  relate,  became  a 
disgrace  to  his  cloth. 

Although  discouraged  and  rendered  almost  shy,  now  that 
the  reason  of  his  presence  had  become  a  matter  of  notoriety, 
he  nevertheless  resolved  to  make  this  last  attempt,  even  while 
looking  upon  it  as  hopeless.  For  how  could  a  girl,  after  hardly 
six  days'  acquaintance  with  a  complete  stranger  like  him,  make 
up  her  mind  to  bear  him  company  to  a  land  that  must  dismay 
her,  both  with  its  remoteness  and   its  wildness.?    But  still   he 


194  JORN     UHL 

would  have  liked,  if  possible,  to  gratify  his  parents  by  bringing 
a  wife  home  with  him,  as  he  had  promised  to  do;  and  besides 
he  now  had  a  longing  for  married  life. 

Now  there  was  a  girl  come  to  this  dance,  who  was  tall  and 
fair  and  of  a  simple,  homely  beauty,  a  girl  of  Frisian  blood, 
not  much  over  twenty  years  of  age.  She  was  the  daughter 
of  a  country  schoolmaster  thereabouts,  a  man  who  had  many 
children;  she  had  now  for  several  years  had  a  place  in  a 
wealthy  marsh-farmer's  family  in  St.  Mariendonn,  where  she 
had  to  help  the  farmer's  wife.  She  had  plenty  to  do  and  got 
very  little  for  it.  She  was  of  a  meditative  and  sympathetic 
temperament,  and  with  all  sorts  of  thoughts  of  her  own  in 
her  head ;  and  these  thoughts  became  so  much  the  more  retiring 
and  shy  as  she  had  no  one  to  whom  she  could  utter  them. 

She  had  not  intended  to  go  to  the  Fair  this  time.  But  as 
her  mistress  had  told  her  somewhat  disdainfully  that  she  ought 
to  remain  at  home,  she  would  hardly  be  asked  to  dance,  not 
being  a  farmer's  daughter,  a  certain  spirit  of  defiance  rose  in 
her,  and  all  sorts  of  strange  hopes  flitted  before  her  imagination, 
called  into  being  by  her  mistress's  arrogance.  So  she  made  up 
her  mind  to  go  to  the  Fair,  and,  coming  thither,  went  into  the 
big  dancing-room,  and  everything  seemed  like  a  dream. 

At  first  no  one  asked  her  to  dance,  and  she  sat  there  with 
grave  and  tranquil  face,  like  the  midnight  sky  when  it  is  veiled 
with  filmy  mists  —  only  a  few  bright  points  shine  through  here 
and  there  with  a  faint,  dull  gleam,  and  give  an  inkling  of 
the  hidden  fires  beyond.  Happening  to  raise  her  eyes,  she  saw, 
standing  not  far  from  the  door  on  the  other  side  of  the  room, 
a  young  man,  whose  dark  skin  and  blue  sailor-suit  had  a  foreign 
look  about  them.  He  was  well-favored,  and  had  an  earnest 
and  somewhat  gloomy  face. 

Soon  afterward  she  noticed  that  he  was  looking  at  her, 
and  drawn  by  some  power  she  had  never  before  known  —  she 
thought  it  was  the  wish  to  dance  —  she  looked  at  him  again 
with  calm,  clear  eyes,  and  his  face  pleased  her.  Suddenly  she 
saw  him  coming  toward  her.  He  bowed  to  her  and  asked 
her  to  dance  with  him.  As  they  moved  off  among  the  dancers 
he  said,  with  a  certain  shyness,  looking  admiringly  the  while 
at  her  tall  figure  and  fine  carriage,  "  I  should  never  have  thought 
that  you  would  look  so  tall  and  grand.     When  a  man's  on 


JORN     UHL  195 

horseback  you  can  tell  his  heij^ht,  but  it's  quite  different  with 
a  woman."  She  was  rather  surprised  at  this  way  of  opening 
the  conversation,  and  merely  nodded  assent.  Then,  as  the 
dance  was  about  to  begin,  he  said,  "  I  beg  your  pardon,  Fraulein, 
for  having  asked  you  to  dance.  The  fact  is,  I've  never  learnt 
dancing  nor  had  a  chance  to  practise,  so  I  propose  not  to 
dance  and  make  ourselves  ridiculous.  I  have  something  else 
to  speak  to  you  about.  But  fir.;t  of  all  I  must  ask  you  if  you 
know  who  I  am." 

She  shook  her  head,  so  that  the  little  curls  danced  around 
her  temples.  Feeling  drawn  to  him  by  his  straightforward 
earnestness,  she  said,  "  You  don't  need  to  tell  me  who  you  are. 
Only  tell  me  what  you  want  of  me.  If  it's  nothing  wrong,  I 
shall  probably  do  it." 

So  he  said :  "  \'ou  will  ha\e  observed  that  I  had  a  good  look 
at  you  not  long  ago,  and  you  looked  at  me,  too.  Many  people 
will  say  that's  neither  here  nor  there.  But  I  believe  that  it 
does  mean  something  in  our  case.  It  means  that  we  please 
each  other.     Is  that  so  ?  " 

She  saw  that  all  eyes  were  upon  them,  and  behind  her  she 
heard  some  one  say,  "Why,  man,  don't  you  know?  That's 
the  African."  And  next  moment  a  little  dark-eyed  beauty, 
with  glowing  cheeks  and  heart  overflowing,  came  running  up 
to  her,  and  slipped  her  arm  around  her  waist,  whispering  hur- 
riedly, "Listen!  if  you  like  him  don't  bother  about  anything 
else  in  the  whole  world.  Go  with  him  wherever  he  takes  you. 
Don't  you  know  me?     I'm  Elsbe  Uhl." 

He  nodded  brightly  to  little  Elsbe,  and  went  aside  out  of 
the  crowd  with  his  partner,  and  placed  himself  so  that  he 
could  speak  with  her  without  being  overheard  by  others.  In 
a  few  words  he  told  her  quite  frankly  of  the  object  of  his 
journey  and  its  ill-success  hitherto,  and  his  early  departure. 
When  everything  had  been  thus  explained,  he  said  he  would 
take  it  as  a  strong  and  clear  sign  of  her  trust  in  him  if  she 
would  now^  consent  to  further  talk  over  the  matter  with  him. 
He  said  they  might  even  leave  the  throng  and  go  outside. 
He  would  promise  to  give  her  honest  answers  to  any  questions 
she  might  like  to  ask  him. 

It  is  difficult  to  imagine  a  girl  in  a  more  awkward  position. 
For  the  subject  of  their  dealings  —  as  they  must  themselves 
have  seen  —  was  known  to  every  one  in  the  room.     Only  one 


196  JORN     UHL 

or  two  couples  went  on  dancing,  all  the  rest  were  busy  dis- 
cussing and  observing  these  two  people,  and  a  buzz  of  talk 
filled  the  whole  room.  The  opinions  expressed  were  as  various 
as  the  characters  of  the  speakers.  The  shallower  sort  cracked 
more  or  less  questionable  jokes ;  the  more  serious  remembered 
that  the  destinies  of  two  human  beings  were  then  and  there 
being  decided ;  some  of  the  girls  made  a  long  face.  If  she 
were  now  to  leave  the  room  \\  ith  the  stranger,  and  were  after- 
ward to  refuse  him  or  be  deceived  by  him,  her  reputation 
would  be  tarnished,  and  her  name  made  a  subject  of  laughter 
as  long  as  she  lived.  The  thought  of  her  good,  honest  parents 
made  her  hesitate,  and  all  her  brothers  and  sisters,  a  flaxen- 
haired,  blue-eyed  band,  rose  before  her  imagination.  But  the 
good  in  her  prevailed  and  all  false  shame  vanished.  She  said, 
"  I  have  full  trust  in  you ;  I  am  ready  to  speak  further  with 
you. 

They  passed  out  down  the  room  as  through  a  lane  of  in- 
quisitive faces,  and  the  excited  dancers  closed  together  behind 
them  like  waves  behind  a  ship.  Once  outside,  face  to  face 
with  quiet,  lonely  night,  the  girl  drew  a  great  breath  of  relief, 
and  when  her  companion  asked  which  way  they  should  go, 
she  answered  nothing,  but  walked  straight  on.  He  walked 
in  silence  by  her  side;  and  so  they  left  the  town,  and  took 
the  road  to  St.  Mary's,  both  full  of  such  deep  thoughts  and 
so  absorbed  by  the  momentousness  and  wonder  of  that  hour, 
that  they  went,  as  it  were,  without  a  will,  led  by  some  stronger 
power  than  their  own. 

At  last,  when  the  houses  were  behind  them,  and  they  had 
walked  awhile  in  silence  along  the  gray,  level  road,  they  began 
with  shy,  timid  words  to  reveal  their  circumstances  to  each 
other.  Their  hearts  were  too  full  for  them  to  give  or  obtain 
from  each  other  a  clear  objective  statement  of  things,  and 
they  spoke  only  of  their  simple  joys  and  sorrows.  They  spoke 
about  things  that  were  laughable,  trifling,  and  out  of  place 
at  an  hour  of  such  importance,  but  it  led  to  the  best  results. 
For  by  its  means  they  saw  into  each  other's  hearts,  and  were  the 
more  quickly  brought  into  sympathy  with  each  other,  just  as 
children,  who  are  strangers,  make  friends  with  each  other  while 
at  play. 

After  the  girl,  with  a  certain  hardness  in  her  tone,  had  said 
that  she  had  no  money  of  her  own,  and  that  she  was  going  to 


JORN     UHL  197 

devote  the  five  hundred  marks  she  had  saved  toward  the  edu- 
cation of  her  brother,  v\ho  wanted  to  be  a  teacher,  he  had 
answered  that  those  were  matters  he  did  not  want  to  know; 
then  she  toKl  him  about  her  parents;  how  her  father  was 
softer  hearted  than  her  mother,  but  how  her  mother  knew  how 
to  manage  money  affairs  better,  and  was  such  a  thoroughly 
good  housekeeper.  Then  she  spoke  of  brothers  and  sisters, 
of  the  big  boys'  plans,  and  what  the  little  girls  were  like  — 
how  the  second  youngest  was  so  fond  of  a  kitten  she  had  that 
she  once  took  it  with  her  to  school,  and  how  her  father  was 
a  long  time  before  he  noticed  it  as  he  went  by  her  desk,  and 
it  was  sitting  on  the  form  quite  good  and  serious,  and  how 
her  very  youngest  sister  used  to  say  she  was  going  to  be  queen. 
Ah,  how  she  prattled,  and  what  castles  in  the  air  she  built, 
and  how  she  mapped  out  careers  for  all  her  sisters  and  brothers. 
How  eloquent  she  grew;  for  the  first  time  for  many  a  day 
she  felt  as  if  she  had  a  sympathetic  comrade  by  her  side. 
Her  heart  was  opened  and  her  tongue  loosed.  At  last  she  gave 
a  little  start  at  her  own  prattle,  and  said  (addressing  him  with 
the  word  "  thou,"  which  is  in  that  country  the  sign  of  trust 
and  affection),  "  Now  tell  me  about  thyself;  what  sort  of  a 
woman  is  thy  mother?  " 

So  he  began.  His  mother  was  not  overstrong,  he  said,  and 
was  a  little  too  delicate  for  the  lonely  and  somewhat  rough 
life  out  there ;  she  would  be  more  at  home  in  some  quiet  little 
town  of  Holstein  than  she  was  out  on  the  veldt  by  the  Croc- 
odile River.  But  she  wasn't  unhappy;  for  there  was  a  silent 
compact  between  him  and  his  father  to  pamper  and  tease  her, 
and,  in  fact,  to  treat  her  a  little  like  a  child,  and  that  was  good 
fun  for  them  all.  So,  for  example,  they  never  called  his 
mother  by  any  name  but  Uris'  littje.^  and  gave  her  no  peace 
till  she'd  had  a  good  laugh  at  least  three  times  a  day;  and 
when  they  couldn't  manage  it,  and  when  the  old  Kaffir,  the 
shepherd,  had  failed,  too,  he  used  to  ride  over  to  his  sister 
on  Saturday,  and  she'd  come  on  Sunday  with  her  husband  and 
their  five  sons,  —  the  whole  seven  on  horseback,  and  with  their 
hair  over  their  foreheads,  —  and  then  she  had  to  laugh  in  spite 
of  herself. 

Then  the  girl  laughed  outright,  and  said :  "  That  is  the  sort 
of  people  I  like.     For  I've  been  for  years  now  in  a  big  farm- 

'  Our  little  one. 


198  JORN     UHL 

house  where  there's  no  scarcity  of  good  health  and  bread, 
but  where  good  spirits  and  laughter  are  looked  down  on  as 
almost  sinful  things.  But  in  my  opinion  the  best  thing  in  the 
world  is  to  live  kindly  and  lovingly  with  those  around  us,  and 
with  everybody." 

He  nodded,  eagerly  assenting  to  what  she  said.  "  Ah,  you 
must  come  back  with  me,  you  are  just  the  one  for  my  people." 

Now  she  was  mute  again. 

After  awhile  she  began  with  more  constrained  voice  to  speak 
about  her  grandparents,  who  had  been  farmers,  and  how  her 
father  was  highly  respected  in  the  village,  and  how  clever  and 
earnest  her  brothers  were,  in  the  unspoken,  innocent  wish 
to  make  clear  to  her  companion  that  she  was  a  child  of  good, 
honest  family,  and  that  he  shouldn't  believe  he  had  picked  her 
up  in  the  street. 

Then  he  told  her  that  her  looks  and  demeanor  had  given 
him  the  impression  that  one  of  the  better  daughters  of  the 
land  was  at  his  side,  and  that  he  was  glad  with  all  his  heart 
that  he  had  won  her  trust  in  him,  and  could  walk  by  her  side. 
She  had  not  disappointed  him,  he  said ;  on  the  contrary,  he 
liked  her  better  every  moment,  and  felt  already  that  she  was 
his  good  comrade,  and  he  would  like  to  go  for  a  longer  —  a 
much  longer  —  walk  with  her  if  she  would  have  it. 

She  said  nothing.  But  as  they  went  on  and  he  found  she 
could  hardly  see  the  foot-track  in  the  dark,  he  at  last  took 
her  hand,  and  laid  it  on  his  arm,  and  held  it  fast;  and  she 
permitted  it.  Thus  they  walked  on  for  some  distance  in 
silence,  while  he  would  now  and  then  stroke  her  hand,  and 
their  hearts  slowly  and  wordlessly  grew  closer  and  closer  to- 
gether. 

On  and  on  they  wandered  along  the  road  through  the  heath, 
till  after  awhile  the  Goldsoot  came  in  sight.  In  the  dim 
moonlight  they  saw  the  hollow  valley  and  the  little  round 
gleam  of  the  fountain  pool.  Hand  in  hand  they  went  down 
to  the  Soot,  and  stood  still  by  the  water  and  looked  into  it.  As 
the  clouds  drew  away  from  in  front  of  the  moon,  they  saw 
there  their  dark  reflections  in  the  clear  blue  light.  And,  look- 
ing up,  they  saw  each  other. 

"  I  am  thirsty,"  said  the  maid,  and  laughed  a  little. 

He  stooped,  taking  up  some  water  in  the  palms  of  his  hands, 
and  holding  it  toward  her;    and  she  drank  with  dainty  lips, 


JORN     UHL  199 

anel  thanked  him.  Then  he  seized  his  opportunity,  and  laying 
his  two  wet  hands  on  her  cheeks,  kissed  her  shyly.  And  when 
he  saw  that  she  offered  her  mouth,  and  laid  her  hands  con- 
sentinj^ly  on  his  arm,  he  embraced  her,  and  said:  "Now  I 
know  that  you  will  go  with  me." 

She  now  gave  a  firm  and  earnest  answer:  "Yes,  I  will  go 
with  you.  I  love  you  as  deeply  and  know  you  as  well  as 
if  you  had  been  my  sweetheart  these  ten  years.  Father  and 
mother  will  let  me  go,  hard  as  it  will  be  to  them;  for  they 
have  always  expected  that  my  lot  would  be  different  to  that 
of  other  girls ;  and  I  can  tell  you  that  when  I  went  to  the 
Fair  to-day,  I  was  full  of  all  sorts  of  strange  hopes  and  fore- 
bodings—  I  felt  as  though  something  wonderful  were  going  to 
happen  to  me." 

Suddenly  she  interrupted  herself  with  a  little  scream.  "  Oh! 
up  there  in  the  oak  thicket  I  thought  I  saw  streaks  of  blood." 

He  quieted  her,  saying:  "It  is  only  the  moonlight;  look, 
you  can  clearly  see  it  is." 

"Or  was  it  your  lips?"  she  said,  and  laughed.  "You 
wouldn't  believe  how  red  they  are." 

He  kissed  her  again  and  again,  and  she  made  no  protest. 
When  he  asked  whether  she  had  had  enough,  "  Oh,  no,  not 
by  a  long  way,"  she  laughed  ;  "  I  was  very  hungry."  So  he 
kissed  her  again.  Then  he  put  his  arm  around  her,  and  went 
down  the  Goldsoot  track  into  the  marsh,  and  gradually  soothed 
and  quieted  her,  till  he  had  brought  her  to  the  door  of  the 
farmhouse  where  she  lived. 

Next  day  she  plighted  her  troth  to  him  in  her  parents'  house; 
and  her  parents  and  her  fair-haired  brothers  and  sisters  looked 
on  with  kindly  and  earnest  faces,  and  two  of  the  boys  main- 
tained that  very  same  day,  that  as  soon  as  they  w  ere  grown  up 
they  would  go  to  South  Africa,  too.  One  of  them  did  so 
afterward ;   the  other  found  an  early  grave  at  home. 

On  the  sixth  day  the  young  couple  went  on  board.  In  Cape 
Town  they  became  man  and  wife.  It  was  a  happy  marriage. 
Never  did  she  regret  having  left  her  home  for  that  strange 
land  w'ith  that  strange  man.  Nor  did  she  regret  it  even  when, 
thirty  years  later,  they  brought  her  news  that  her  third  son 
had  fallen  in  the  attack  at  Colenso.  Nor  did  the  blood,  which 
the  children  of  her  native  heath  had  once  showed  her  by  the 
Goldsoot,  come  back  to  her  remembrance. 


200  J  0  R  N     U  H  L 

That  evening,  soon  after  the  South  African  and  his  sweet- 
heart had  left  the  little  valley,  a  cart  pulled  up,  up  above  on  the 
heath-road,  and  Harro  Heinsen's  voice  said:  "  Come,  let  us  go 
down  to  the  Goldsoot  for  a  little  while.  Everything  that 
bears  the  name  of  Uhl  and  has  kinship  with  them  now  has 
need  of  gold ;   perhaps  we'll  find  some  there." 

"  As  you  \\  ish,"  said  Elsbe.  She  sprang  from  the  cart  into 
his  arms,  and  he  held  the  little,  dainty  creature  fast,  and  car- 
ried her  down  the  foot-track.  And  there  by  the  Goldsoot,  in 
the  gray  dim  grass,  she  became  his  own. 

Jorn  Uhl,  in  his  blue  linen  jumper,  stood  gazing  at  the 
moon  —  this  old,  rusted,  parched,  unfruitful  minx  —  and  pay- 
ing no  heed  to  all  the  creatures  living  and  loving  upon  the 
heath  and  in  the  trees  and  fields  around  him.  Was  he  not 
engaged  in  the  high  pursuits  of  science?  But  as  he  looked 
toward  the  gleaming  mountain-tops  which  stood  on  the  edge 
of  the  "  Mare  Nectar  "  in  the  full  glow  of  the  moon,  the  heads 
of  two  mortals,  cheek  to  cheek,  passed  across  the  moon's  disk. 
Thrown  completely  out  of  his  line  of  thought,  Jorn  lowered 
the  glass  and  looked  into  the  dark,  listening  intently  to  the 
distant  sounds  of  the  night.  Then  he  shut  the  doors  and  went 
to  his  room,  and  thought  over  his  work  for  the  morrow. 

Thus  the  winter  and  spring  passed  by,  and  it  grew  on  into 
summer,  while  Jorn  Uhl  went  quietly  about  his  daily  work, 
waiting  for  Fate  to  deal  the  blow  that  was  to  destroy  his 
family.  But  nothing  happened.  It  seemed  as  though  farm 
affairs  at  the  Uhl  were  still  prosperous.  There  came  indeed  a 
blow  for  Jorn  Uhl,  but  it  was  not  from  the  direction  he 
expected. 

It  was  in  July;  they  were  busy  with  the  hay-harvest  when 
a  rumor  of  trouble  and  coming  war  among  the  nations  flew 
abroad  through  the  land.  And  the  land  and  the  men  in  it 
stood  with  senses  all  alert,  greedily  listening  to  the  far-off 
mutter  and  rumble  of  the  coming  storm.  The  soul  of  the 
people  drew  the  noise  into  itself.  For  it  was  an  old,  silent, 
long,  long  slumbering  hope,  that  now  might  be  fulfilled ;  and 
it  was  an  olden  quarrel,  a  long  list  of  old  misdeeds  and  wrongs 
that  might  now  be  righted.  Individual  men  did  not  think  of 
these  things;    for  each  was  in  trouble  and  distress,  and  full  of 


JORN     UHL  20I 

fear  of  the  furious  portents  bellowing  down  there  beyond  the 
horizon.  But  in  the  mighty  soul  of  the  nation  this  thing 
without  definition  of  space  or  time,  that  neither  forgets  nor 
dies,  these  thoughts  on  a  far-off  past,  and  hopes  that  had  slum- 
bered a  thousand  years,  now  began  to  dimly  struggle. 

The  youngest  born  of  the  Uhls  did  not  hear  much  of  what 
was  going  forward  ;  these  things  had  no  voice  for  his  heart. 
The  time  had  not  \ct  come  for  him  to  see  further;  he  had  no 
eyes  for  anything  be\ond  the  last  ditch  on   Uhl   Farm. 

It  was  a  day  in  July  when  every  one  was  busy  with  the  hay 
on  the  dikes.  Geert  Dose,  who  was  working  at  the  Uhl, 
plunged  his  fork  deep  into  a  hay-rick,  saying:  "These  French- 
men are  said  to  be  a  barefaced  lot,  so  it  won't  be  a  bad  thing 
if  we  show  'em  what  a  hay-fork  is  like." 

"  And  what  then  ?     There'll  be  another  tune  to  sing." 

The  stable-boy  asked  if  he  was  old  enough  to  go  as  a  volun- 
teer.    He  was  just  eighteen. 

Jorn  Uhl  shook  his  head.  "  Just  keep  your  tongue  still,"  he 
said;    "  it'll  all  come  to  nothing." 

Next  morning  he  woke  early  and  saw  that  his  room  was 
full  of  moonlight.  "  It's  too  early  yet  to  wake  the  others," 
he  thought;   "  I'll  just  get  up  and  have  a  look  at  the  moon." 

During  the  winter  he  had  industriously  studied  Littrow,  and 
his  delight  in  observing  the  stars  had  grown  greater  as  his 
knowledge  increased.  He  had  made  drawings  of  the  moon 
for  himself  and  of  the  positions  of  the  stars,  and  it  had  given 
him  keen  pleasure  to  see  how  they  corresponded  with  Littrow 's 
drawings.  Pages  and  pages  he  had  filled  with  masses  of  figures, 
calculating  the  distances.  This  employment  quenched  his  thirst 
for  knowledge  and  filled  the  joyless  void  in  his  soul.  So  he 
took  down  the  telescope  that  now  always  lay  at  hand,  near 
the  top  of  the  chest,  and  went  out  of  his  room,  across  the  big 
hall,  opened  the  door,  and  was  about  to  step  outside  with  the 
polished  instrument  in  his  hand,  when  the  old  town-messenger 
in  his  blue  coat  and  bright  buttons  came  up.  He  looked  at 
Jorn  with  a  somewhat  surprised  air,  and  said,  "  I  might  have 
expected  to  find  you  up,  Jorn.  I've  two  papers  here,  one  for 
you  and  one  for  Geert.  You're  both  to  report  yourselves  at 
the  barracks  in  Rendsburg  to-morrow  by  ten  o'clock.  War's 
been  declared.  I  must  be  off  now.  I've  got  more  papers  to 
deliver.    Come  back  safe,  Jorn." 


202  JORN     UHL 

Jorn  let  the  telescope  hang  by  his  side  and  drew  a  deep 
breath.  "  Well,  that's  new  s,"  he  said,  and  turned  around  and 
crossed  the  hall  into  his  own  room.  He  laid  the  telescope 
away  in  its  place  and  sat  down  on  the  chest.  "  This  business 
may  take  a  long  time  to  settle,"  he  thought.  "  They're  a 
strong  and  brave  nation,  and  it'll  be  a  hard  tussle.  It's  an 
old,  bitter  quarrel.  .  .  .  Hans  will  have  to  stay  at  home.  Hin- 
nerk'U  have  to  go  with  me.  Who  will  come  back,  no  one 
can  say.  .  .  .  There'll  be  a  nice  state  of  affairs  here.  Hans 
and  father.  .  .  .  Elsbe.  ...  I  must  go  and  tell  Thiess  about 
it  all.  i  shall  call  in  there  on  my  way.  We  have  to  start  this 
afternoon  at  three.  .  .  .  Jasper  Cray  must  be  taken  on  to 
work  on  the  farm  and  look  after  things.  He  won't  get  so  very 
much  done,  but  he  won't  let  things  go  to  the  dogs.  I  wonder 
w^here  Fiete  Cray  is?  .  .  .  This  has  completely  upset  all  my 
reckonings,  but  what  must,  must  be.  H  they  won't  leave  us 
alone,  why,  I  suppose  we  must  just  give  them  a  drubbing; 
then  we'll  be  able  to  plough  our  land  in  peace  again.  Maj^be 
it'll  last  a  year,  maybe  longer.  Jasper  Cray  is  the  only  one 
I  can  put  any  confidence  in.  I'll  just  say  a  word  in  his  ear 
and  promise  him  an  extra  hundred  marks  if  I  come  back  and 
find  everything  going  right.  It's  a  bitter  thing.  Here  I  have 
a  father  and  brothers  at  home,  and  have  to  run  to  a  neighbor 
and  beg  him  to  look  after  our  farm  for  us." 

Then  he  got  up,  glanced  around  the  room,  and  went  out; 
he  woke  everybody,  and  said :  "  Get  up.  We've  got  a  good 
deal  to  do  to-day.  War's  declared ;  and  Geert  and  I  have  to 
join  our  regiment." 

About  six  o'clock  that  evening  he  and  Geert  walked  down 
the  forest  road  and  cast  a  look  over  toward  Haze  Farm.  There 
they  saw  Thiess  Thiessen  with  a  heavy  bag  over  his  shoulder, 
leaving  the  farm  in  the  direction  of  the  village;  he  kept  turn- 
ing to  look  back  as  he  walked  along.  They  both  began  shout- 
ing, and  he  stopped.  On  recognizing  Jorn  he  shook  his  head 
desolately,  his  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  he  said,  while  still  a 
good  way  off:  "Jorn,  Jorn,  it's  a  bad  business  I  have  done. 
Elsbe  hasn't  been  here  for  a  fortnight,  and  is  in  Hamburg  with 
Harro  Heinsen.  I  didn't  have  the  courage  to  write  to  thee 
about  it,  laddie.  And  now  I  have  a  letter  from  her,  saying  he 
wants   to  take  her  to  America  with  him,   and   she  saj's  she's 


J  0  R  N     U  H  L  203 

frightened  of  America,  and  bids  good-by  to  us  all,  and  especially 
to  thee." 

Jorn  looked  at  Thiess  with  wide  ej'cs  of  surprise  and  anger. 
"  Give  me  the  letter,"  he  said.  Thiess  Thiessen  threw  down 
the  bag  he  was  carrying  on  his  shoulder,  wiped  his  hot  face, 
and  searched  in  his  pockets  for  the  letter,  turning  around  now 
and  again  while  he  searched,  and  ga/.ing  back  toward  his  farm. 
"  What  do  you  want  with  all  those  documents?  Where  are 
you  off  to?  " 

"  Don't  ask  me,  laddie,"  he  moaned;  "  it's  to  Hamburg  I'm 
going,  and  if  I  don't  find  her  there  I'm  going  to  America." 

Geert  Dose  had  been  feeling  the  bag.  "  There  are  two 
good  big  hams  in  it,"  he  said,  "  and  two  flitches  of  bacon,  but 
they're  from  a  smaller  pig,  and  a  pig's  head." 

"  For  the  journey,"  moaned  Thiess. 

*'  To  Hamburg?  "  asked  Geert,  politely. 

"  To  America,"  said  Thiess,  sobbing  outright. 

"  That's  something  worth  talking  about,"  said  Geert. 

By  this  Jorn  had  read  the  letter,  and  was  gazing  mutely  at 
Thiess.  "  And  now  you're  thinking  of  going  after  her,  are  you? 
To  judge  by  her  letter  she  must  have  left  Hamburg  before 
this;  and  even  if  she  were  there  still,  you  can't  stop  her  going 
to  America  with  him." 

"  I'll  tell  her  she  must  leave  him  and  stay  with  me,  and 
nobody  shall  say  a  word  against  her." 

Jorn  Uhl  reflected  awhile.  "  Thiess,"  he  said,  "  I  suppose 
you  don't  know  that  there's  war  with  France,  and  that  we 
have  been  summoned  to  Rendsburg?  " 

"Oh,  dear!  oh,  dear!"  said  Thiess;  "that's  worse  and 
worse;   one  misfortune  on  top  of  the  other." 

"  We  have  very  little  time  to  think  over  matters,"  said  Jorn. 
As  yet  he  couldn't  grasp  the  news  about  Elsbe.  What!  little 
Elsbe  away  with  that  big,  coarse  lout,  away  out  in  the  world 
among  strangers?  Suddenly  a  thought  occurred  to  him.  "  It's 
possible  that  the  ship  hasn't  been  able  to  sail  on  account  of  the 
outbreak  of  the  war.  If  you  find  her,  do  the  best  you  can, 
Thiess,  and  bring  her  back  here  to  the  Haze." 

"Do  you  think  so?"  said  Thiess;  "do  you  think  I'll  suc- 
ceed? "  He  looked  back  at  his  farm  and  sobbed,  and  his  tears 
ran  down  over  his  thin  cheeks. 

"  Come,"  said  Jorn,  "  take  heart  a  little,  Thiess ;    you  have 


204  JORN     UHL 

always  had  a  longing  to  travel  a  bit,  or  at  least  to  go  and  see 
Hamburg.     Now  you'll  get  out  of  your  bogs  for  awhile." 

*'  Yes,  yes,"  he  said,  and  stopped  again  and  looked  back  at 
the  old  thatch  roof.     "  But  it's  a  cruel  thing." 

They  had  reached  the  top  of  the  rise  where  you  catch  sight 
of  Haze  Farm  for  the  last  time.  "  I  don't  know  what  it  is," 
he  said,  weeping,  "  but  my  spirits  are  very  low." 

"What,  Thicss!  after  all  your  thirst  for  travel,  and  your 
maps,  and  the  Brazils  and  Japan.  It  must  have  all  been 
fancy  and  make-believe.     Why,  man,  you're  homesick." 

"  No,  no  .  .  .  I'm  coming.  .  .  ."  He  staggered  like  a 
drunken  man. 

"  Turn  back,  Thiess ;  it's  no  good,  you  can't  tear  yourself 
away." 

"  I  can't  sleep  of  a  night,"  the  little  man  moaned ;  "  all  night 
long  I  see  her  living  there  in  misery,  and  I  must  go  after  her. 
And  I  can't  go  and  leave  the  Haze,  either." 

"  If  Thiess  can't  sleep,"  said  Geert  Dose,  "  there  must  be 
something  serious  the  matter,  and  he'll  be  losing  his  appetite. 
And  what'll  he  do  with  the  two  hams?  " 

"I  must  go,  I  must,"  moaned  Thiess;  "it's  no  good.  I'll 
go  with  Eckert  Witt,  you  know  —  the  turf  boatman.  Leave 
me  alone  and  don't  torment.     It's  got  to  be." 

"  Well,  off  with  you,  then.  We,  too,  have  no  more  time 
to  stay." 

At  the  crossroads  they  bade  him  good-by  with  a  shake  of  the 
hand,  and  stood  looking  after  him. 

"  The  bag's  too  heavy  for  him,"  said  Geert.  "  Look,  Jorn, 
he's  regularly  staggering  with  it." 

"  He  can't  stand  leaving  home  and  all,"  said  Jorn. 

"  I  say,  tell  me,  now,  what  sort  of  a  country's  this  France. 
I  mean,  is  there  anything  to  be  got  hold  of  there?  Do  they 
fatten  pigs  there,  or  perhaps  you  don't  know  that,  Jorn?  .  .  . 
See  there.  .  .  .  He  has  put  the  bag  down,  it's  too  heavy  for 
the  old  man,  he  can't  manage  it." 

"No,  he's  climbing  the  embankment,"  said  Jorn  Uhl ;  "he 
wants  to  try  if  he  can  get  a  last  look  at  the  farm.  And  that's 
the  man  that  made  out  he  would  feel  at  home  on  every  cattle 
track  in   Further  India." 

"  I'll  just  hop  over  to  him,  and  see,"  said  Geert;  "  I  believe 
it's  the  bag  that's  doing  it." 


JORN     UHL  205 

Geert  took  a  short  cut  throutili  the  buckwheat  paddock, 
and  came  back  after  awhile  with  the  two  flitches  of  bacon 
under  his  arm,  "  What  was  the  good  of  making  him  a  long 
speech  about  it?"  said  he.  "  He  hasn't  the  faintest  idea  of  it. 
He's  just  standing  there  yapping  over  at  the  farm.  .  ,  .  Who 
knows  what  sort  of  times  we'll  have?  These  tw^o  bacon  flitches 
are  just  the  only  sure  and  substantial  thing  we've  got  in  the 
whole  world  —  all  the  rest's  just  wild  confusion." 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

Every  villager  in  Schleswig-Holstein  knows  that  a  blue 
dungaree  jumper  and  blue  dungaree  trousers  are  the  correct 
traditional  costume  for  stablemen  —  a  costume,  be  it  remarked, 
very  becoming  to  a  good-looking  man.  It  must  be  confessed, 
however,  that  the  said  blue  dungaree  is  apt  to  become  light 
blue  in  parts  where  it  gets  much  rubbed  or  used,  while  the 
other  parts  keep  their  original  dark  hue.  This  parti-colored 
appearance  can  be  still  further  heightened  by  the  housewife's 
putting  new  deep  blue  patches  on  the  knees  and  breast.  A 
man  may  thereby  assume  such  a  variegated  appearance  that  it 
is  difficult  to  believe  that  an  honest,  upright  Holsteiner  is  hidden 
away  under  this  coat  of  many  colors. 

It  was  a  place  near  Rendsburg  on  the  Loher  Heath,  and 
France  had  declared  war  four  days  before.  And  it  was  four 
days  before  when  Lance-Corporal  Lohmann  —  the  same  man 
who  died  this  year  from  the  consequences  of  the  hardships  he 
underwent  in  the  war  —  had  come  galloping  into  camp,  bring- 
ing the  commander  a  telegram.  A  minute  later  every  battery 
of  the  Holstein  artillery  knew  they  were  going  to  march  against 
France.  And  without  a  word  of  command,  as  though  the 
bugles  had  sounded  the  alarm,  they  sprang  to  their  horses  and 
commenced  saddling  and  harnessing  with  flying  hands.  They 
thought  they  would  have  to  be  off  straight  away, 

Hans  Lohmann,  brother  of  the  Corporal  Lohmann  already 
mentioned,  —  2d  Heavy  Battery,  Number  3,  on  the  right  of 
the  gun,  cleaner  and  rammer,  —  was  mute  and  dazed  for  four 
weeks  afterward.  Only  on  the  third  day  after  the  battle  of 
Gravelotte  did  light  begin  to  dawn  on  him  again.  In  the  first 
place,  he  did  not  understand  why  they  didn't  begin  fighting 
right  away  on  receipt  of  the  news;  secondly,  why  the  French 
didn't  appear  next  day  on  Loher  Heath ;  thirdly,  when  the 
batteries  were  actually  under  way,  how  It  was  possible  for  the 

206 


JORN     UHL  207 

world  to  be  so  bip;.  He  had  thought  the  French  lived  just 
behind  Hohenwestcdt  and  Heinkenborster.  But  he  was  under 
a  moral  misconception  in  addition  to  this  geographical  one,  for 
he  had  not  understood  a  word  of  their  captain's  address  to 
them  about  their  olden  rights  and  about  love  of  one's  Father- 
land and  sympathy  for  its  aspirations.  But  afterward  Corporal 
Lindemann,  who  was  for  him  what  a  lighted  lamp  is  for  a 
dark  room,  had  explained  to  him  in  a  few  words  that  the  French 
had  insulted  the  old  emperor.  "  This  is  the  way  they've  done, 
Lohmann,"  and  he  raised  his  hand  as  if  to  strike. 

"  How  old  is  he?  "  asked  Lohmann. 

"  Over  seventy." 

From  that  hour  forward  Lohmann  felt  that  he  had  a  clear 
knowledge  of  the  state  of  affairs  and  a  good  conscience.  "It 
they  strike  the  old  man  in  the  face,  then  we've  a  right  to  dust 
their  jackets  for  them."  So  it  is  evident  that  Lohmann  2  was 
somewhat  hazy  in  his  ideas. 

Not  so  Captain  Gleiser.  Bless  me!  The  work  that  that  man 
got  through  in  those  seven  days  before  the  departure  for  the 
front!  Didn't  he  stand  three  days  at  a  stretch,  from  morning 
till  night,  like  a  post  in  the  sand,  examining  and  inspecting  the 
men  and  horses  of  his  regiment?  And  they  were  never  good 
enough  for  him.  In  those  days  he  was  more  than  once  over- 
censorious —  he.  Captain  Gleiser,  his  Majesty's  handsomest 
officer,  as  he  himself  said,  asserted  a  hundred  times  if  he  did 
it  once  in  those  few  days  that  his  was  the  damn  worst  battery 
that  was  marching  against  France. 

The  smithy  had  driven  past  him  for  the  eighth  time  with  its 
six  black  horses  —  pace,  trot,  gal  .  .  .  lop.  .  .  .  That's  the 
way.  That  was  right  —  when  suddenly  a  hubbub  arose.  A 
long-legged  horse,  a  beautiful  animal,  refused  to  pull.  He 
jerked  at  his  collar,  pranced,  got  among  the  artillery  reserves, 
who  were  standing  there  with  their  bundles,  and  seemed  as 
if  he  wished  to  dance  a  polka  on  his  hind  legs. 

"  We'll  tame  him,"  cried  the  captain ;  "  bring  him  out  in 
front," 

Strong  hands  helped  the  driver  to  spring  on  to  his  back; 
he  was  no  sooner  tliere  than  he  lay  sprawling  full  length  in 
the  dust.  "Man,  go  and  bury  yourself  for  shame!  Jiirgens, 
you  try  him.  What!  go  to  France  with  such  fellows  as  these! 
I'll  gc  alone,  I  tell  you,  I'll  go  alone." 


2o8  JORN     UHL 

But  Jiirgens  soon  lay  in  the  hole  in  the  sand  which  the 
driver  had  made. 

Captain  Gleiser  glared  around  him.  He  glared  around  him 
like  a  man  who,  standing  in  the  centre  of  the  world,  regards 
himself  as  the  only  man  on  it.  He,  yes,  he  himself  would  ride 
the  horse!  It's  worth  while  to  show  three  hundred  inferior 
men  what  Captain  Gleiser  can  do.  Those  are  the  thoughts  he 
had  in  his  mind  as  he  glared  around  him. 

Among  the  Reserves  who  were  still  standing  there  in  their 
every-day  clothes,  a  hundred  and  odd  men,  there  was  one  a 
little  apart  from  the  others;  he  was  dressed  in  an  old  blue 
dungaree  suit,  on  which  big  new  knee-pieces  had  recently  been 
sewn.  In  spite  of  his  height  and  gauntness  he  looked  a  thorough- 
bred ;  broad-shouldered  and  straight,  with  a  proud,  narrow  face. 
Many  a  prince  would  have  been  glad  to  have  had  the  face 
and  figure  of  this  farmer's  son  hereditary  in  his  family.  On 
his  fair,  almost  white  hair  he  was  wearing  a  blue,  peaked  cap, 
and  he  had  a  small  trunk  in  his  hand.  'Twas  this  man  Gleiser 
spied  out,     "  Uhl!  "  he  shouted. 

Uhl  came  up. 

"  Gad !  You  haven't  lost  that  heavy  tread  of  yours,"  he  cried. 
"Your  father  makes  clogs,  doesn't  he?" 

"  No,  he's  a  farmer,  captain." 

"  I  don't  care  a  rap  what  he  is.  Can  you  ride  that  devil 
of  a  horse,  or  are  you  a  battered  old  teapot,  like  the  rest  of 
them?  .  .  .  Up  with  you!  "  Every  one  of  the  men  who  were 
on  Loher  Heath  that  day  —  those  who  are  still  living  have 
now  gray  hair  —  knows  how  stiff  and  deliberate  Jorn  Uhl  of 
Wentorf  was  as  he  set  his  gray  linen  trunk  down  on  the  sand, 
and  how  he  stood  up  again  as  though  all  his  joints  were  crack- 
ing, and  how,  after  he  had  straightened  himself  up  and  laid 
his  hand  on  the  dark  bay,  he  seemed  to  be  a  different  man. 
His  eyes  lifted  themselves  up  like  lions  about  to  spring.  With 
a  leap  he  was  in  the  saddle,  and  the  dark  bay  reared  and 
bucked,  and  whirled  around  and  shook  himself,  and  at  last 
bolted  away  over  the  sand  and  disappeared  in  a  cloud  of  dust, 
and  left  absolutely  no  trick  untried  in  order  to  escape  going 
with  5J>e  others  on  that  campaign  against  the  French.  And 
every  one  remembers  how  he  gave  up  the  struggle  and  Corporal 
Uhl  came  riding  back  upon  him,  carrying  his  head  pretty  high. 


J  O  R  N     U  H  L  209 

"  Uhl,"  cried  Gleiser,  "  you'll  ride  that  horse  for  the  future 
and  be  Captain  of  the  Sixth  Gun." 

So  Jorn  Uhl  went  to  the  war  as  non-commissioned  officer. 

Eight  days  later,  in  the  midst  of  pouring  rain,  they  passed 
through  the  long  poplar  lane  that  the  74th  had  crossed  six 
days  before,  as  they  were  storming  the  Spicheren  Heights.  It 
was  miserable  weather,  and  the  troops  were  tired  and  low- 
spirited. 

Which  of  them  had  seen  it,  or  who  told  the  story,  no  one 
knows.  They  saw  their  old  general  riding  by,  and  one  soldier 
repeated  it  to  the  other:  "  He  just  saw  them  burying  an 
officer;  there  to  the  left  of  the  trees.  So  he  rode  over  and 
asked  them,  'Who  are  you  burying  there,  men?'  'Our  cap- 
tain.' '  Let  me  have  another  look  at  him,'  the  old  chap  said, 
he  s  my  son. 

A  moment  afterward  he  rode  past  with  his  adjutant,  to  the 
batteries  that  were  driving  on  through  the  rain.  He  wasn't 
a  good  figure  on  horseback,  too  fat  and  too  short.  They  looked 
after  him,  and  marched  on. 

Miserable  weather.  "  Look,  there  are  three  dead  horses. 
Man  alive,  how  they  are  swollen!  " 

"  I  say,  what's  the  meaning  of  those  long  flower-beds? 
That's  jolly  strange;    they've  stuck  sabres  in  them!  " 

"Haven't  you  got  eyes  in  your  head,  man?  Those  are 
graves." 

"For  men?" 

"  Yes,  for  men  ;  who  else?    And  now  stop  your  jaw." 

"  Look !  There's  a  rifle  sticking  in  the  ground.  One  of 
them's  used  it  as  a  crutch.  The  crutch  is  still  standing,  but 
the  man  has  fallen." 

Miserable  weather.     How  the  rain  beats  through  the  trees! 

The  guns  go  rumbling  and  rattling  slowly  forward.  Graves; 
nothing  but  graves.  And  the  poplars  are  all  peeled  and  stripped, 
and  the  broken  branches  show  their  splintered  bones. 

"  We  can't  get  at  the  enemy.  .  .  .  We  Schleswig-Holsteiners 
haven't  got  a  show  .  .  .  not  we!  We're  too  green  and  fresh 
at  the  work  for  those  Prussian  fire-eaters.  We're  only  going 
for  the  sake  of  parade.  We've  only  got  to  follow  in  their 
tracks." 


2IO  JORN     UHL 

"  Those  who  were  in  the  '66  campaign,  they're  the  ones 
who'll  have  to  bear  the  brunt  of  it." 

Who  offered  this  opinion,  or  whether  it  was  right,  nobody 
troubled  to  ask. 

That  night  they  bivouacked  on  the  wet,  windy  heights  to 
the  west  of  Spicheren,  and  threw  fourteen  French  wagons  that 
were  standing  there  into  the  flames  of  their  watch-fires.  They 
were  all  somewhat  dejected,  although  many  laughed  loud,  and 
had  a  great  deal  to  say.  The  sergeant  grumbled  the  whole  night 
about  the  burning  of  the  wagons,  and  had  the  iron  parts  raked 
together  out  of  the  fires  toward  morning,  and  was  delighted  that 
they  brought  seven  francs  for  the  Battery  Fund. 

The  batteries  drove  on.  It  became  most  tedious,  this  eternal 
marching  on  and  on.  A  thousand  times  rather  straight  at  the 
enemy,  beat  them,  and  then  back  home.  "  Who  is  there  to 
plough  and  sow  at  home?  Autumn's  coming  on.  Father  can't 
look  after  the  stables  by  himself.  And  what  will  mother  do? 
And  the  girl  ?  " 

"  We're  getting  deeper  and  deeper  into  France.  I  believe 
we've  lost  our  way,  if  the  truth  were  known.  Hope  we'll 
come  well  out  of  it." 

Forward !     Forward ! 

How  small  Wentorf  has  grown!  Wentorf,  the  very  centre 
and  hub  of  the  earth !  Why!  There  must  be  fully  ten  thousand 
villages  in  the  world,  and  men  like  sand  upon  the  sea-beach. 
At  first  their  battery  had  been  alone,  when  they  crossed  the 
Elbe  on  two  steamers.  Then  they  had  grown  into  regiments, 
then  into  a  division,  then  into  an  army,  and  now,  since  yesterday, 
they  were  a  nation. 

On  the  14th,  the  battery  drew  up  on  a  hill  rise,  near  a 
cross-road.  Captain  Gleiser  stopped  near  Jorn  Uhl.  There 
below  they  saw  troops  marching,  regiment  on  regiment.  Ar- 
tillery and  cavalry  and  endless  trains  of  wagons,  squadron  on 
squadron,  right  away  to  the  hills  on  the  dim  horizon. 

Gleiser  turned  around.     "  Uhl,  what  do  you  say  to  that?  " 

Jorn  Uhl  gazed  at  the  scene,  but  said  nothing. 

"You  farmer,  you!  It's  our  Fatherland,  Germany,  strug- 
gling forth  out  of  centuries  of  distress."  He  jerked  his  horse's 
head  around  and  said  no  more. 

Then  Jorn  looked  up  again  and  saw  all  these  men  march- 


JORN     UHL  211 

inj^  past,  all  striving  toward  one  common  goal,  and  suddenly 
he  felt  the  greatness  of  the  time. 

Next  night  they  crossed  a  river  by  torchlight. 

On  the  1 0th,  they  heard  cannon  in  the  distance  to  their 
right,  the  souiul  coming  down  from  the  hills.  "  There's  a  bit 
of  an  artillery  fight  going  on.  Just  look!  Hut  what  can  they 
do  at  two  thousand  paces!  Just  a  bit  of  a  row!  "  And  they 
thought  no  more  about  it. 

But  a  feeling  like  curiosity  came  over  them.  A  feeling  of 
restless  expectancy,  like  that  a  hunter  feels  in  the  forest,  spread 
among  the  men. 

The  1 8th  dawned,  and  they  again  saw,  as  they  had  done 
fourteen  days  before,  many  fresh  graves,  this  time  with  the 
full  sunlight  on  them. 

It  is  eleven  o'clock. 

"  A  fine,  sunny  day." 

If  only  the  graves  were  not  there. 

It  was  a  good  thing  after  all  that  they  remained  in  the 
Reserves.  The  day  before  yesterday  just  the  same  as  to-day. 
Always  in  the  rear.  "  We're  much  too  young  and  raw,  and 
besides  we're  troops  out  of  the  new  province.  We  won't  get 
to  the  front,  you  just  see.  .  .  .  It's  a  good  thing,  too.  .  .  . 
It's  a  pity.  .  .  .  No.  .  .  .  It's  a  good  thing  after  all.  I  must 
go  back  to  my  father.  I  must  go  back  to  my  sweetheart.  I'm 
too  young  yet !  I  want  to  see  something  of  life  first.  Then  — 
as  far  as  I'm  concerned  .  .  ." 

It  is  eleven  o'clock. 

It  is  as  still  as  a  Sunday  morning  In  Holstein.  That  is,  if 
it  v\eren't  for  the  rattle  and  jolt  of  the  guns,  and  the  creak 
and  whimper  of  the  harness. 

"  Strange!  .  .  .  There,  forward,  to  the  right!  .  .  ." 

"  Do  j^ou  see?  .  .  ." 

"  The  main  body  is  turning  ofif  the  road  up  the  heights,  as 
sure  as  I  live!  " 

"There  to  the  right,  man!     Can't  you  see?" 

"What  does  it  want  there?" 

"  How  do  I  know?  " 

"  What  a  lovely,  quiet  day!  " 

"Gad!  We  won't  get  a  sniflF  of  powder  the  whole  of  this 
blessed  campaign.  Soon  it'll  be  *  Right  about  face!  '  and  back 
home!" 


212  JORN     UHL 

"  It's  too  bad,  to  come  back  home  and  not  have  gone  through 
a  thing!  Afterward,  those  braggart  Prussians'll  be  coming 
and  spouting  behind  their  beer-glasses  about  their  great  deeds, 
enough  to  make  the  rafters  warp,  and  we'll  have  to  hold  our 
tongues." 

"  Jan  Busch,  where  did  you  get  hold  of  that  pipe?  " 

"  Oh !  my  landlady  in  What-you-may-call-it  gave  it  to  me, 
to  remember  her  by." 

"Look!     Up  there!    That's  the  first  horse-battery !  " 

"  Do  you  see?  " 

"What  the  deuce  is  it  doing  up  there?  .  .  .  Can't  make  it 
out  at  all." 

"  How  willing  the  young  horses  pull!  " 

"There,  see!    the  six  are  standing." 

"That  captain's  a  bit  hasty,  don't  you  think?" 

"  My  father  used  to  say,  at  Istedt,  he'd  say  .  .  .** 

"Man,  shut  up  about  Istedt!" 

"What  was  that!" 

"  They're  firing,  I  believe." 

"  Are  they  firing?  " 

"  Battery  .  .  .  tr  .  .  .  ot!  " 

Captain  Gleiser  casts  a  glance  over  his  guns. 

Nobody  will  forget  that  look.     That  means  business. 

Who  sees  anything  else?  Who  hears  anything  else?  WTio 
says  another  word  ? 

"Battery  .  .  .  gallop!" 

Hans  Detlef  Gleiser  pulls  up  of  a  sudden,  on  his  high, 
beautiful  bay;  the  sun  sparkles  on  his  helmet  and  in  his  eyes. 
That's  his  great  delight  to  let  his  six  guns  gallop  past  him, 
and  then  give  his  horse  the  spurs,  and  be  first  in  position. 

The  major  comes  galloping  toward  them.  He  must  be 
wanting  to  show  them  where  to  take  their  positions.  .  .  .  The 
major  sits  his  horse  w^ell,  even  now  his  head  is  o^.  .  .  .  How 
horrible  .  .  .  now  the  dead  man  falls.  .  .  .  And  the  horse 
gallops  madly  on. 

"  What's  that  horse  that  goes  tearing  past  as  Jorn  Uhl's  team 
comes  galloping  into  action?  That  bay  belongs  to  Colonel  von 
Jagermann,  doesn't  he?  "  The  horse's  flank  is  red  and  wet  with 
blood. 

"  In  advancing  .  .  ." 

The  horses  fly  to  one  side. 


JORN     UHL  213 

"  Load  with  shell.     Against  the  enemy's  position." 

"  Eighteen  hundred  paces." 

No  more  time  for  thinking  now. 

"  It's  not  possible." 

No  more  thinking  .  .  .  keep  cool. 

The  white  tents  .  .  .  Men  are  running  about  there.  Thou- 
sands are  marching  hither  and  thither  over  yonder,  and  stand 
there  in  smoke. 

Pee  .  .  .  ee  .  .  .  tchnn  .  .  .  tchnn !  A  rush  and  a  whistle 
crescendo  and  decrescendo. 

"  Keep  cool,  lads.     If  you  hear  it,  it's  past." 

It  flies  past,  singing  shrilly,  and  strikes  not  far  from  the 
wheel  tire  .  .  .  burying  itself  with  a  short,  slushy  sound  in 
the  belly  of  the  pole  horse.  The  horse  trembles  and  falls  to 
one  side.  The  pole-horse  rider  looks  angrily  at  the  mare. 
"What's  the  beast  thinking  of  now?"  .  .  .  Pee-e  nn!  .  .  . 
His  anger  has  vanished.  With  a  long  scream  he  lifts  his  hands, 
as  though  some  one  had  struck  him  in  the  loins  with  a  sharp 
stake,  bends  in  the  hollow  of  his  back,  and  falls  headlong 
backwards  from  the  rearing  horse. 

Jorn  Uhl  jerks  his  head  around,  to  look  at  Lieutenant  Hax, 
who  has  given  some  order  or  other;  but  it  can't  be  under- 
stood. There's  such  a  roar  and  noise  and  rattle  and  thunder 
around  them. 

But  is  it  necessary?     He  knows  it  by  himself. 

Gun  to  the  front!     Gun  to  the  front! 

One  and  two  have  to  lay  their  hands  to  the  spokes. 

Ready  with  shell !  .  .  .  The  lock  is  open. 

"  Tschn-nn!  " 

Those  mosquitoes  would  fain  sting;  there,  away  in  front; 
the  long  white  line.  But  there's  no  time  ...  no  time.  We 
must  keep  those  wasps  from  getting  too  near  .  .  .  those  up 
there  on  the  heights. 

"  Fire  at  those  batteries  .  .  .  Fifteen  hundred  paces." 

Number  one  pulls  the  cord.  The  fire  flies  forth.  Out  of 
the  crashing  and  cracking  a  kind  of  melody  arises.  A  host 
of  fearful  sounds  is  rushing  and  flying  with  maniac  eyes  and 
contorted  faces  over  the  heights.  Half  to  the  left  there  is  a 
continual  squeaking  and  scratching,  a  villainous  noise,  as 
though  some  one  kept  jamming  a  piece  of  iron  into  fragments 


214  JORN     UHL 

of  glass.  A  sheet  of  flame  out  of  it  flits  right  over  the  heads 
of  the  panting  men,  there. 

"Fire!" 

The  shell  flies. 

Jorn  Uhl's  eyes  fly  in  pursuit.    Ah,  that  was  a  hit. 

A  sheet  of  flame  comes  flying.  With  a  splutter  it  passes  by. 
A  lieutenant  comes  trotting  in  their  direction.  Jorn  casts  a 
glance  at  him.  The  lieutenant  is  mown  down  and  flies  to  one 
side.     His  back  is  suddenly  bathed  dark  red. 

Lieutenant  Hax  goes  from  gun  to  gun  just  as  if  he  were  on 
Loher  Heath. 

A  soldier  comes  up,  salutes,  and  stands  at  attention  before 
him.  The  blood  is  welling  out  of  his  side,  and  has  formed  a 
stripe  down  his  trousers  as  though  he  were  a  general. 

"  To  the  rear." 

The  man  goes  five  steps,  then  he  staggers.  .  .  . 

Some  one  mentions  his  name.     "  See  there.     Geert  Dose." 

Lieutenant  Hax  pulled  up  suddenly  as  though  he  had  heard 
a  command. 

"  Uhl." 

"  Here,  sir." 

He  turns  around. 

"  Just  give  a  look.     I'm  wounded  in  the  back." 

"  Can't  see  anything,  sir." 

"No  hole?" 

•'  No." 

"  Well  ...  if  you  say  so.  .  .  .  Aim  at  those  heavy  guns 
there  by  the  trees." 

"  Fire!  .  .  .  that  was   too  short." 

"Fire!" 

"That's  it!" 

Number  two  stumbles.  That's  Jan  Busch.  He  staggers 
backwards  and  holds  his  hands  to  his  forehead  as  though  he 
saw  some  dreadful  sight,  and  then  falls  heavily  backwards, 
flinging  out  his^  arms.  With  outstretched  hands  he  remains 
lying  on  his  back,  gazing  into  the  sky  with  the  same  terrified 
eyes.    Jorn  Uhl  springs  forward  to  the  gun. 

Number  five  is  wounded  on  the  foot.  He  limps  up,  groan- 
ing, and  lays  fresh  shells  at  Jorn  Uhl's  feet. 

Lieutenant   Hax  shouts  out  to  those  who  are  holding  the 


JORN     UHL  215 

horses,   "Farther   hack!"     There   are  still    three   horses   left. 
The  others  are  lying  on  the  ground. 

And  there  are  still  three  men  at  the  gun.  The  others  are 
lying  on  the  ground. 

Jorn  Uhl  stands  over  the  gun-carriage,  with  the  cartridge- 
box  behind  him,  the  shells  lie  near  him  on  the  ground.  He 
picks  them  up,  peg  and  screw.    With  a  hard  glance  .  .  . 

Lohmann  No.  2  fires  and  sponges  the  gun. 

"  Lohmann!  "  shouts  Hax,  "  not  so  slow,  man!  Move  your- 
self, we  are  not  on  the  Loher  Heath." 

Lohmann  can't  do  it  any  differently.  One  .  .  .  and  .  .  . 
two.  .  .  .  Just  the  same  as  when  they  used  to  practise  on  the 
Loher  Heath. 

"Fire!" 

From  the  left  it  is  getting  terribly  close,  crashing  and  howling. 

Lieutenant  11  ax  clutches  his  wounded  back  and  sighs  aloud, 
"  That  Lohmann  .  .  .  can't  do  it  any  differently  ...  I'm 
blest  if  he  can." 

Captain  Gleiser  rides  up:   "  Good,  my  lads!    that's  the  way." 

Four  or  five  offkcrs  of  the  staff  ride  by  for  the  second  time 
and  halt  close  behind  them.  They're  not  long  noticing  it; 
it  roars  and  soughs  .  .  .  and  splinters  fly  .  .  .  and  shells  strike 
.  .  .  and  burrow  in  the  earth.  An  officer's  horse  comes  down ; 
the  rider  is  flung  away  over  its  head,  leaps  up,  and  runs  to 
catch  another  horse  that  is  galloping  riderless  among  the  guns; 
Jorn  Uhl  helps  him  to  catch  it;  and  in  a  moment  he  is  sitting 
on  the  red  housing-cloth. 

The  horsemen  trot  away.  The  cap  of  the  general  has  a 
little  streamer  to  it;  a  piece  of  the  edge  is  torn  off,  and  a 
piece  of  the  wadding  is  hanging  out,  fluttering  in  the  wind. 

They  are  working  hard  at  the  gun  ;  working  in  the  sweat  of 
their  brow.  Not  a  moment's  rest.  Not  a  moment.  They 
pant  and  aim,  and  shove  and  push,  shout  and  curse.  There 
is  a  strange,  short-breathed,  hot  wind  blowing  backwards  and 
forwards.  The  very  earth  is  spewing  fire,  and  the  fire  gleams 
yellow  through  the  billows  of  smoke.  The  locks  on  the  guns 
have  become  loose,  and  at  everj'  shot  a  long  red  tongue  of  flame 
leaps  out. 

They  have  but  the  one  thought:  work,  work.  They  have  no 
other  care.  They  only  think,  "  It's  hot  work.  When  will  it 
be  over?"     They  don't  think  that  the  foe  outnumbers  them 


2i6  JORN     UHL 

and  is  drawing  around  them  in  a  half-circle,  and  may  venture 
a  charge  at  any  moment. 

There  comes  number  five  running  up  and  says,  "  There  are 
no  more  shells  left." 

Now  they're  in  a  fix,  a  cruel  fix. 

They  stood  by  their  gun  as  though  turned  to  stone,  Lohmann 
stands  with  the  sponge  raised;  Jorn  Uhl,  the  one  hand  on  the 
gun-lock,  the  other  clenched  in  fury,  gazes  into  the  lightning 
among  the  smoke;  Lieutenant  Hax  drags  himself  up  with 
heavy  feet  and  shows  Lohmann  his  back. 

**  Isn't  there  a  hole  in  it?  " 

"  Yes,  lieutenant,  now  there's  a  hole,  and  blood  is  there,  too." 

"  I  can't  stand  any  longer  and  I  won't  go  away,  I  won't,  I 
tell  you."     And  he  spat  contemptuously. 

An  officer  of  the  staff  came  galloping  up.  "  Why  have  you 
stopped  firing?  " 

"  No  ammunition." 

"  The  devil  you  haven't!     Fire  blank  cartridge  then." 

So  they  fired  blank,  using  linen  rags  .  .  .  and  kept  firing 
.  .   .   and  still  firing  ...  a  good  long  while. 

Jorn  Uhl,  bending  over  the  gun-carriage,  reaches  almost 
mechanically  to  the  right:    there  lie  shells  once  more. 

That  is  a  relief. 

A  beardless  young  lieutenant  stands  behind  them  and  praises 
them,  raising  his  voice  above  the  din.  "  Well  done,  corporal ! 
Well  done  .  .  .  comrade."  He  salutes  across  to  Hax,  who 
is  sitting  on  the  ground  propped  with  his  back  against  a  wheel 
of  the  gun-carriage.  But  Hax  cannot  see  him;  Hax  is  staring 
through  half-closed  eyes,  his  underlip  contemptuously  protruded, 
down  yonder  in  the  direction  of  the  enemy.  Suddenly  the  guns 
on  their  left  ceased  firing. 

"  What  are  these  two  batteries  doing?  Why  don't  they  go 
on  firing?  " 

Heavy  rifle-firing  is  heard,  half  on  their  left  flank,  on  the 
edge  of  the  woods. 

German  Infantry  leaps  up,  flings  itself  down  again,  comes 
nearer  and  nearer. 

"  Oh!  .  .  .  Those  fellows  want  to  help  us.  .  .  ." 

"  The  guns  .  .  .  why  aren't  they  firing?  " 

"  Fire  away,  comrades!  " 

Here  and  there  a  single  man  is  still  on  his  feet  .  .  .  here 


JORN     UHL  217 

and  there  a  muzzle  still  flashes.  Sergeant  Heesch  of  Eesch 
still  sticks  to  his  gun,  though  he  has  but  one  man  left.  There 
he  stands  amid  the  smoke  and  fire.  That's  a  hero  for  you! 
They'll  talk  of  him  at  home,  I  say,  for  many  a  year  to  come. 

"  Fire,  brotiiers,  fire!  " 

A  strange  sort  of  brawling  and  roaring  keeps  growing  nearer. 

The  young  lieutenant  comes  running  up,  shouting  at  the 
top  of  his  voice,  "  Fire  on  that  battery  to  the  left!  .  .  .  Grape- 
shot,  grape-shot,  1  tell  you." 

"Lieutenant!"  shouts  Uhl.  .  .  .  "That's  our  battery!" 

"  Can't  you  see,  man!     It's  full  of  red  breeches!  " 

"Right  about!" 

They  all  lend  a  hand,  and  grip  and  tug  at  the  wheel-spokes. 
It  is  hard  work  to  get  the  gun  around. 

"Grape-shot!  .  .  .  Four  hundred  paces.  .  .  ." 

Look!  Lieutenant  Hax  is  on  his  feet  again.  He  tries  to  give 
the  word  of  conuuand  and  makes  a  clutch  at  his  wounded  side, 
and  falls  headlong  forwards.  Two  or  three  fugitives  come 
running  toward  them  from  the  captured  battery.  One  of  them 
falls  midway  in  his  flight  just  as  a  child  falls,  and  clings  to 
a  gun-wheel,  and  begins  repeating  the  petitions  of  the  Lord's 
Prayer,  one  by  one.  The  fourth  petition  he  says  twice  over. 
For  he  was  a  poor  man's  son. 

Fresh  bodies  of  German  Infantry  pour  out  of  the  wood,  they 
stand  and  lie  and  crouch,  some  here,  some  there,  wherever  they 
can,  scattered  and  in  bands.  They  stand  or  lie  between  the 
cannon,  and  fire  on  the  howling  and  bellowing  enemy  that  is 
rushing  toward  them. 

A  fusilier,  a  nimble,  sinewy  fellow,  with  a  round,  reddish 
head,  has  sprung  to  Jorn's  gun,  and  is  shooting  from  behind  it. 
.  .  .  He  is  putting  in  another  cartridge. 

"  Jorn  Ulil,  laddie!  .  .  .  Adsiim,  Jorn." 

Jcirn  Uhl  pushes  a  grape-cartridge  into  its  place,  and  shuts 
the  lock.  .  .  .  Why  shouldn't  it  be  Fiete  Cray  that  is  standing 
there  by  his  side! 

"  Your  firing's  thrown  away,  Jorn.  It'll  be  all  up  with  us 
in  a  minute." 

A  shell  ploughs  up  the  yellowish  brown  earth. 

"Ah!  if  Hinnerk  could  only  plough  like  that,  it'd  be 
something  like." 

"  The  post-card  that  I  have  here  stuck  In  my  helmet  .  .  ." 


2i8  JORN     UHL 

"  Write  to  Thiess.     Remember  me  to  Elsbe." 

"  Lisbeth  Junker  has  .  .  .  But  what's  the  good  of  talking!  " 

He  heaves  the  gun  around  toward  the  enemy,  Fiete  Cray 
helps  him. 

The  hail  of  grape-shot  goes  flying  once  more  ,  .  ,  and  yet 
once  more. 

The  French  begin  to  falter  over  yonder.  But  more  come 
on.  Multitudes  of  strange  red-breeched  men  appear  in  the 
fire  and  smoke,  pressing  forward. 

The  end  is  not  far  off. 

Horses !     Horses ! 

The  horses  are  all  lying  dead  on  the  ground.  So  Lohmann 
runs  across  the  iield  and  catches  three  of  those  that  are 
galloping  about  there,  riderless,  trotting  and  then  standing 
still  awhile;  he  comes  back  with  them,  and  the  soldiers  harness 
them  to  the  guns  with  flying  hands. 

Retire!  .  .  .  Retire! 

A  miserable  retreat. 

Fiete  Cray  sits  in  front  on  the  gun-box  and  drives  with 
loose  reins.  Lohmann,  standing  upright  by  his  side,  lashes  the 
worn-out  and  wounded  horses  with  his  whip.  Jorn  Uhl  is 
trotting  close  alongside  the  gun,  holding  the  lieutenant,  who 
is  sitting  on  the  axle-seat,  crouched  all  in  a  heap  and  swaying 
like  a  drunken  man. 

"  It's  just  like  it  was  in  Wentorf,"  thinks  Fiete  Cray,  "  when 
I'd  been  robbing  the  apple  orchard,  and  had  Wieten  after  me, 
scolding  for  all  she  was  worth.  God  be  with  us!  How  the 
wretches  curse!  " 

Two  sheaves  of  flame  cleave  the  smoke ;  they  sweep  straight 
away  over  the  field  in  front  of  them. 

"The  third'U  be  for  us!  " 

No  ...  no.  Fate  means  none  of  the  iron  that  hurtles  there 
for  them.  Nor  shall  any  of  these  flames  singe  them.  They 
reach  the  shelter  of  the  wood  alive. 

There  they  find  from  ten  to  a  dozen  guns.  Others  are  still 
coming  up  in  the  same  plight  as  they,  with  staggering,  stum- 
bling horses;  and  three  or  four  stragglers  run  up,  on  whose 
sweat-bathed  faces  misery  and  rage  are  imprinted,  and  panic 
fear  and  wild  excitement. 

How  they  work!  They  tug  at  the  horses'  mouths  with  loud 
curses  and  short,  w-ild  words.     Ammunition  is  hauled  up  and 


JORN     UHL  219 

laid  in  the  boxes.  The  artillery  smith,  caplcss  and  dishevelled, 
with  uniform  all  torn,  is  kneeling  by  a  gun  that  has  been  hurt; 
a  corporal  is  stuffing  plugs  of  lint  into  the  deep  wounds  of  a 
horse,  to  stop  the  gush  of  blood. 

Words  of  command  mingle  with  the  din. 

Three  guns  with  fresh  horses,  and  a  fair  complement  of 
gunners  —  among  them  infantry  stragglers  —  drive  up. 

The  young  lieutenant  works  away,  shouting  as  he  runs 
hither  and  thither.  .  .  .  Now  he  can  start  again  with  two 
guns.  An  officer  pulls  up  his  horse  on  the  hill  rise,  and  points 
with  his  sword  in  the  direction  they're  to  take.  "  There!  Over 
yonder!     To  the  edge  of  yon  wood!  " 

Jorn  Uhl  sits  on  the  front  gun,  Fiete  Cray  is  next  him. 

All  around  them,  from  near  and  far,  is  heard  the  roll  and 
roar  of  guns,  and  in  unabated  fury  the  fearful  crackling  of 
musketry  and  the  scream  of  shells. 

Now  they  have  trotted  along  to  the  end  of  the  forest  road 
and  come  out  on  the  edge,  and  the  thunder  seems  to  have 
receded. 

"  Do  you  know  what,  corporal  ?     I  believe  it's  over  there." 

"  I  must  be  at  them,"  says  the  youngster,  grinding  his  teeth. 
"My  cousin  in  the  2d  Light  Horse  has  fallen;  to-morrow  I 
must  write  to  his  mother." 

"  There  are  many  fallen,  lieutenant." 

"  It's  a  fearful  day." 

When  they  looked  around  the  other  gun  was  no  longer  there. 
The  roar  had  abated. 

Evening  began  to  descend  upon  the  woods. 

And  there  was  none  among  them  to  raise  his  hands  and 
cry  like  the  Jew  in  his  fury,  of  old,  "  ()  Sun!  stand  still  over 
Gibeon,  and  thou.  Moon,  in  the  valley  of  Ajalon!  " 

No  .  .  .  No.  .  .  . 

They  drive  on  and  come  out  of  the  wood  at  the  right  place. 

But  the  guns  arc  being  retired.  Fresh  infantry  regiments  are 
in  masses  on  the  field.     The  enemy  is  quiet. 

It  is  eventide. 

And  as  the  sounds  cease  .  .  .  there  are  cries  heard  out  of 
those  bushes  and  out  of  yon  furrows,  "  Help!  .  .  .  Oh  .  .  . 
help  me!  "  And  up  above  on  the  rise,  "  Je  prie  .  .  .  ma  mere 
.  .  .  pitic."  And  out  of  the  dry  watercourse,  "  Water!  Water! 
...  a  drink  of  water  .  .  .  mither,  mither!  " 


220  JORN     UHL 

Gradually  the  sounds  die  down  and  cease. 

On  the  edge  of  the  wood  soldiers  are  getting  down  from 
the  gun-carriages  and  off  the  backs  of  their  horses. 

"  My  mother  put  a  packet  in  my  breast  pocket,  in  case  the 
worst  came  to  the  worst,"  says  the  lieutenant  ..."  but  I 
can't  get  my  arm  up  to  it." 

So  Jorn  Uhl  t(X)k  it  out  of  his  pocket  for  him,  and  gave  it 
him,  and  he  offered  him  the  half  of  it.  The  pole-horse  had 
lost  the  lint  plugs  out  of  its  wound,  and  the  blood  was  spurt- 
ing out.  Jorn  Uhl  sprang  up  and  dragged  it  to  one  side.  It 
fell.  The  lieutenant,  faint  with  loss  of  blood,  seated  himself 
on  the  gun-carriage;    Fiete  Cray  flung  himself  in  the  grass. 

"  Lohmann,  go  and  see  what's  become  of  the  others." 

He  laid  the  sponge  that  he  had  taken  away  in  its  place,  and 
vanished  in  the  wood. 

"  Oh!  "  said  the  lieutenant;  "  give  me  just  a  single  mouthful 
of  something.  I  gave  my  flask  to  Lanky  Jack ;  he  emptied  it 
at  a  pull."  He  usually  spoke  of  him  as  Lieutenant  Hax,  but 
in  this  hour  he  called  him  "  Lanky  Jack." 

"  Do  you  see,  lieutenant?  "  said  Fiete  Cray;  "  here's  one  of 
the  other  side  coming!  " 

A  soldier  in  wide  red  breeches  and  short  blue  jumper  came 
limping  slowly  toward  them.  Out  of  his  bayonet  he  had  made 
a  splint  for  his  broken  hip  bone,  and  tied  it  on  with  his  sword- 
belt.     But  his  foot  slipped  and  he  gave  a  loud  scream. 

Fiete  Cray  caught  hold  of  him  and  helped  him  to  sit  down. 

"  I  am  a  Frenchman,"  he  said,  with  a  good  German  accent. 
"Oh!     Oh!" 

"What?"  said  Fiete,  looking  at  him  in  astonishment. 

"  I  am  a  Strasburger." 

"  Well,  be  thankful  for  it,  and  just  stay  still  where  you  are 
and  stop  your  mizzling."  He  found  a  bit  of  rope  in  his  pocket 
and  set  the  leg  again. 

When  Jorn  Uhl  saw  Fiete  pull  this  piece  of  rope  out  of 
his  pocket,  his  tongue  was  loosed. 

"  I  say,"  said  he,  "  how  did  you  get  here?  " 

"  I  arrived  in  Hamburg  the  very  day  war  was  declared.  Oh, 
Jorn,  my  farm!  My  beautiful  butter  farm!  Not  far  from 
Chicago,  Jorn!  Oh,  and  my  wife,  and  my  two  beautiful  mares! 
.  .  .  But  I  can't  bear  to  talk  about  it.  .  .  .  Stop  your  groan- 
ing, Strasburger,  I  can't  do  anything  more  for  you." 


JORN     UHL  221 

Lolimann  came  back  and  reported  that  "  over  th — th — there 
.  .  .  the  b — batteries  were  halted."  He  stuttered;  his  voice 
was  thick  and  his  gait  uncertain.  Up  to  this  the  h'eutenant 
had  been  gazing  gloomily  into  space,  moving  his  hand  now  and 
tiien  with  a  suppressed  groan  to  his  wounded  arm.  "  Are  you 
wounded?  "  he  asked. 

"  Devil  a  bit,  sir!  "  said  Lohmann. 

If  he  had  only  managed  to  keep  his  tongue  still,  all  v\ould 
have  gone  well ;  but  he  got  hold  of  the  ranuiier  and  swore  he 
would  "  go  across  and  fight  those  Frenchies  with  it,  by  thunder, 
he  would,  he'd  fight  'em  by  himself  alone." 

So  it  came  out  that  he  had  stumbled  on  some  French 
canteen  cart  that  had  been  abandoned  over  yonder  by  the 
embankment,  and  got  tipsy. 

"  Now  we  can  start  again,"  said  the  lieutenant. 

They  lifted  the  Strasburger  up  on  to  the  ammunition-box, 
and  drove  off. 

"You  are  Holsteiners,  too,  aren't  you?"  said  the  lieutenant. 

"  From  Dithmarschen." 

"  My  home's  not  far  from  Plon,  and  my  cousin  lives  in  the 
next  village.  Now  he's  shot.  I  haven't  seen  him,  but  I  know 
it,  for  all  the  men  that  served  his  guns  have  been  killed.  .  .  . 
It  will  be  bad  news  for  them  at  home.  I  ought  to  write  to 
them  .  .  .  but  I  cannot.  .  .  .  Gretchen  will  cry  her  eyes  out. 
He  was  such  a  fine,  brave,  clever  fellow,  too." 

"  Is  Gretchen  his  sister?  " 

"Yes;  we  all  used  to  be  playmates.  We  all  grew  in  the 
same  pot,  my  uncle  used  to  say." 

Fiete  Cray  consoled  him,  and  said,  "  There's  many  a  pot 
gets  smashed,  sir." 

"  And  Gretchen  is  engaged  to  me,"  said  the  youngster. 
"We  plighted  our  troth  when  we  were  saying  good-by;  and 
that  was  long  ago." 

"  Yes,"  said  Jorn  Uhl,  "  it  was  long  ago." 

"  It  was  three  weeks  ago  by  my  reckoning,"  said  Fiete  Cray. 

They  all  shook  their  heads  incredulously. 

"Three  weeks?  .  .  .   It's  impossible." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  it's  only  three  weeks  since  I  was  at 
home  cutting  chaff  for  the  cows?  " 

"  It's  an  age  ago  ...  an  endless  time  .  .  .  more  than  seven 
years  at  least." 


222  JORN     UHL 

Such  was  the  effect  on  their  brains  of  their  long  marches 
and  travels,  and  of  this  day  of  furious  battle;  everything  in 
their  lives  before  that  seemed  to  have  receded  into  some  dim 
past. 

They  came  upon  the  other  batteries  in  a  hollow  not  far 
from  the  wood.  And  again  there  was  work  to  do.  The  whole 
night  long  it  lasted!  How  they  worked,  there  on  the  edge 
of  the  Bois  de  la  Casse!  And  when  morning  flushed  the  sky, 
there  stood  there  forty  guns  drawn  up  in  order  side  by  side, 
spick  and  span,  as  if  they  were  on  the  Loher  Heath;  two  had 
fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy.  Horses  and  men,  their  gaps 
filled  up  from  reserve  troops,  were  again  standing  by  the  iron 
muzzles,  ready  as  soon  as  the  sun  rose  to  drive  back  again  to 
that  same  yellow,  pebbly  field,  ploughed  with  shell,  and  cut 
up  with  ruts  of  wheels,  and  scattered  over  with  corpses,  and 
pools  of  blood,  and  tatters  of  harness,  and  broken  weapons,  and 
splintered  wood. 

But  the  enemy  did  not  come.  The  enemy  was  no  longer  a 
tiger  roaring  as  it  leaps  toward  its  prey,  but  an  ox  tethered 
and  bellowing,  goring  the  earth  with  its  horns. 

That  forenoon,  Jorn  Uhl  was  sent  out  to  get  news  of  some 
of  the  wounded.  After  much  seeking  he  found  Lieutenant 
Hax,  lying  on  his  cloak,  in  high  fever. 

"  Mother's  just  been  here,"  he  said.  "  She  was  saying  I 
oughtn't  to  hurry  so  fast  and  make  myself  so  hot.  '  You  young 
hothead,'  she  said,  and  gave  me  a  box  on  the  ears.  She  always 
does  that,  just  for  fun,  when  I've  been  running  too  hard. 
Then  I  laugh  and  go  to  the  glass  and  say,  '  See,  now,  you've 
made  my  cheeks  redder  than  ever.'  But  deuce  of  a  looking-glass 
is  there  here.  Here  there's  nothing  at  all  in  its  proper  place. 
I  must  make  you  fellows  look  after  things  a  bit  better.  .  .  . 
Oh !  it's  you,  Uhl !  ...  It  has  been  a  bad  day  for  us,  and 
I  believe  I'm  done  for." 

"  It's  not  so  bad  as  that,  sir?  " 

"  The  air's  so  hot  one  can't  breathe  in  it,  especially  when 
one's  got  to  go  at  such  a  pace.  Just  tell  me,  Uhl,  how  is  it 
you  always  go  so  slow?  You're  always  so  stiff  and  deliberate. 
.  .  .  Oh,  I  remember  now:  it  comes  from  ploughing.  .  .  .  I've 
been  dreaming  I  saw  that  red-haired  youngster  that  I  once 
bundled  off  our  farm  with  his  little  dog-wagon." 


JORN     UHL  223 

"  It  was  no  dream,  sir.  He  was  really  at  the  guns  with  us 
all,  helping." 

"  He's  a  good  sort,  Uhl.  When  I  turned  him  off  our  farm 
I  recollect  he  clenched  his  fist  and  wanted  to  fight  me.  It's 
not  Christian,  but  it's  devilish  human." 

"  It's  Christian,  too,  I  should  say,  sir,  for  one  to  fight  against 
what's  evil." 

"Right!  yes,  that's  it,  against  what's  evil!  I'm  going  to 
do  the  same  myself.  As  true  as  God  helps  me!  We'll  clench 
our  fists  and  hit  hard,  like  we  did  to-day.  And  when  you're 
down  and  can't  hit  back  any  longer,  you  must  spit.  Yes! 
Christian  and  human,  one  and  the  same  thing.  I  suppose 
mother'll  have  a  po(jr  harvest  of  oats  this  year  on  the  Ahlbeker 
Moor.  When  I  get  back  home  I'll  plough  and  plough  till 
I'm  as  stiff  as  that  corporal  of  the  sixth  gun.  .  .  .  What's  his 
name  again  ?  " 

"  Uhl." 

"  Then  everything  shall  blossom  out  afresh,  and  I'll  build 
a  new  house;  but  the  old  horizontal  bars  and  so  on  we  used 
for  gymnastics  shall  stay  where  they  are  in  the  yard.  But  we 
won't  talk  about  that  just  now.  Back  to  jour  guns,  men!  .  .  , 
I  say,  Dose,  what  the  devil  are  you  standing  there  grinning 
about?  Are  you  wondering  why  I've  got  so  much  to  say? 
I  swear  I'll  send  jou  back  to  serve  with  long  Sott,  you  beggar. 
Unlimber,  I  tell  you.  .  .  .  It's  not  the  slightest  use.  Those 
Frenchmen  are  brave  fellows  and'll  get  the  Iron  Cross,  you'll 
see,  but  a  cross  for  our  graves  is  all  that  ive'll  get." 

"  What  message  shall  I  gi\e  the  battery  from  you,  sir?  " 
I  won't  have  them  keep  firing  straight  in  my  eyes  like  that. 
Is  that  the  way  for  men  to  behave?  *  In  the  name  of  three 
devils,'  does  he  say?  They  ought  to  shoot  with  turnips,  that's 
better  than  those  filthy  blank  cartridges;  and  Captain  Gleiser 
ought  to  take  oft"  those  patent-leather  boots  of  his." 

Hax  had  never  been  able  to  get  on  with  the  captain. 

Jorn  Uhl  looked  for  Geert  Dose,  too,  but  couldn't  find  him. 
On  the  second  day  he  went  to  the  lazarets  again,  but  still  sought 
in  vain.     Thousands  lay  there  in  their  mlser>\ 

But  on  the  third  day  he  discovered  him  in  the  same  narrow 
room  in  which  Captain  Strandiger  lay  shot  through  the  breast. 
Both  had  been  left  untouched  by  the  doctors.  It  would  have 
been  useless. 


224  JORN     UHL 

Jorn  Uhl  straightened  himself  up  before  the  captain  and 
saluted,  but  the  wounded  man  only  gazed  at  him  vacantly  with 
great  wild  eyes,  full  of  fever.  Oh,  stupid,  stiff-jointed  Jorn 
Uhl !  Then  he  bowed  over  his  comrade  lying  there  on  the  damp, 
crimson  straw. 

Geert  Dose  was  perfectly  conscious  and  quiet.  His  eyes 
answered  Jorn's  greeting.  There  was  the  same  look  in  them 
as  tliat  day  in  the  Rendsburg  Barracks,  as  if  to  say,  "  Jorn, 
lad,  you  and  I  are  the  only  sensible  people  in  the  whole  room." 
But  now  it  was  bitter  earnest. 

"  Can  I  do  anything  for  you,  Geert,  old  man?  " 

"  No,  Jorn,  it's  all  over  with  me.  I  can't  understand  how 
I'm  still  alive." 

"  Can't  I  do  anything  for  you?    Have  you  much  pain?  " 

"Pain?  There's  none  in  the  back;  I  don't  think  I've  got 
a  back.  But  here  in  front  from  the  breast  up  to  the  neck. 
.  .  .  But  it's  really  all  the  same,  Jorn ;  no  good  talking.  Only 
I  wish  I  could  be  back  with  father  and  mother  just  once  more. 
.  .  .  Mother  used  to  give  me  a  nice  clean  shirt  every  Satur- 
day, and  here  I  have  to  lie  like  this.  .  .  .  This  one's  simply 
filthy,  Jorn." 

"  My  shirt's  not  so  fresh  as  it  might  be,  Geert,  but  it's  better 
than  yours." 

He  pulled  his  coat  off  and  stripped  off  his  shirt,  and  put 
his  arm  around  the  wounded  man  to  raise  him.  Geert  gave 
a  sudden  scream,  his  head  fell  back,  and  he  was  dead. 

Jorn  Uhl  stood  up  to  his  knees  in  the  blood-stained  straw. 
He  looked  at  the  dead  man,  and  then  at  the  captain,  who, 
with  his  head  back  and  dilated  eyes,  was  struggling  and  panting 
for  breath,  and  horror  seized  him  for  the  terrible  misery  of  men. 

When  he  came  back  to  the  battery,  Fiete  Cray  had  been 
there  and  gone  away  again.  William  Lohmann,  however, 
had  just  been  put  in  irons  for  two  hours  for  having  been 
drunk  on  the  eighteenth.  As  a  set-off  and  solace,  however,  he 
learnt  that  he  had  been  recommended  for  the  Iron  Cross  for 
having  sponged  his  gun  that  day  as  if  he  were  at  home  on  Loher 
Heath,  one  .  .  .  and  .  .  .  two. 

Such  was  the  day  of  Gravelotte  for  the  lads  of  Wentorf. 

There  came  the  camp  in  front  of  Metz,  in  the  midst  of  wet 
straw  and  evil  smells,  and  with  the  plague  of  lice  and  vermin. 


JORN     UHL  225 

Many  a  one  fell  ill  and  had  to  be  sent  home.  Jorn  Uhl  re- 
mained in  sound  health,  did  his  round  of  duties,  and  thou^iit 
of  the  Uhl,  where  it  was  now  harvest-time  and  the  ploughs 
were  running. 

Then  came  the  most  trying  time  of  the  war;  long  marches 
right  into  the  heart  of  France,  and,  as  they  marched,  one  fight 
after  another,  all  through  the  winter.  To-day  no  water,  and 
to-morrow  no  bread;  no  fire  i  i-day,  to-morrow  no  breath;  no 
roof  to-day  to  cover  them,  to-morrow  no  shirt. 

And  every  day  the  peasants  of  the  country  were  comman- 
deered for  grave-digging!  "There  beneath  the  walnut-tree! 
dig  a  grave,  paysdn!     Crsf  f/io/i  ranuiradi',  cochon!" 

It  came  to  this  at  last,  that  they  iiaid  to  their  captain,  "  Sir, 
none  of  us  will  ever  go  back  home  from  this  terrible  war." 
And  the  captain  would  stand  and  gaze  away  far  oft  into  the 
east.  "  And  if  we  don't  soon  return  home,  we'll  be  no  longer 
of  any  use  in  the  \\(jrld.  We  are  no  longer  human  beings, 
but  unclean  animals."  His  hair  had  grown  gray  in  those  few 
months  of  war. 

Jorn  Uhl  marched  with  them,  kept  his  gim  polished,  and 
his  men  in  fair  discipline,  and  kept  thinking  to  himself,  "  When 
ploughing-timc  comes  around  again,  I  must  be  back  at  the  Uhl." 

In  the  beginning  of  February,  one  rainy  day,  in  a  small  town. 
Corporal  Uhl  was  missing  at  roll-call.  The  night  patrol  found 
him  lying  in  a  gutter  in  a  small  street  near  the  barracks.  When 
they  took  him  in  charge  and  brought  him  to  the  lazaret,  he 
whimpered,  after  the  fashion  of  those  who  have  fever,  about 
all  sorts  of  trifling  matters,  the  mud  on  his  coat,  and  the  loss 
of  his  cap.  They  laid  him  in  bed  and  went  away.  But  as  the 
hospital  warders  did  not  watch  him,  he  got  up  that  same  night, 
put  on  his  clothes  ready  for  marching,  and  went  out  into  the 
street  again.  They  found  him  next  morning  leaning  against 
a  wall,  dazed  with  sleep.  He  was  taken  back  to  the  lazaret,  and 
there  he  lay  ill  with  typhus.  He  was  tortured  with  the  fancy 
that  the  new  silver  gun-sight  had  got  lost,  and  that  his  men 
supposed  that  he,  Jorn  Uhl,  had  thrown  it  away  so  as  to  escape 
from  serving  against  the  French.  The  sick  man  carried  this 
torturing  hallucination  with  him  for  more  than  a  hundred 
miles,  and  it  did  not  vanish  until  he  came  under  the  care  of 
good  nurses  in  Strasburg. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

FiETE  Cray  got  his  discharge  from  the  army  as  early  as 
March,  and  went  to  see  Jorn  Uhl  in  the  lazaret.  He  found 
him  almost  well  again,  and  took  him  with  him  to  Hamburg. 

So  one  afternoon  Jorn  Uhl,  tall  and  lank,  still  pale,  and 
still  a  little  listless,  and  little  Fiete  Cray,  with  his  quick  steps 
and  restless,  prying  eyes,  passed  through  the  Hamburg  streets 
looking  for  lodgings  for  the  night.  Both  of  them  were  dressed 
in  the  threadbare  old  uniforms  that  had  been  given  to  them 
to  come  home  in. 

As  they  walked  along  in  this  fashion,  Jorn  Uhl  with  his 
eyes  on  the  ground,  and  Fiete  Cray  with  his  eyes  everywhere 
about  him,  a  tall,  good-looking,  fair-haired  girl  came  in  their 
direction;  her  skin  was  fair,  too,  all  white  and  red,  in  the 
freshest  bloom  of  youth ;  she  had  a  book  under  her  arm,  and 
was  simply  and  very  soberly  dressed.  And  Fiete  Cray  looked  at 
her,  and  couldn't  help  looking  at  her  again ;  for  there's  some- 
thing peculiar  in  her  face,  something  that  reminds  one  of 
Wodan's  Heath  and  Haze  Farm.  The  remarkable  thing  about 
her,  too,  is  that  there's  something  lightlike  and  fugitive  in  her 
bearing  and  in  her  hair  and  eyes,  and  that  the  shy  gray  eyes 
are  set  a  little  slanting  in  her  face,  like  the  two  wings  of  a 
dove  that  is  about  to  take  flight. 

An  uncertain  glance  of  recognition  flies  backwards  and  for- 
wards between  them.  Both  of  them  suddenly  stop,  and  Jorn 
Uhl,  too,  lifts  his  eyes. 

"  Oh,  Jorn,  Jorn!  .  .  .  How  ill  you  look!  Oh,  Fiete  Cray! 
I  have  heard  from  Thiess  that  you  have  been  with  the  others 
in  France,  and  that  you're  married.  .  .  .  Oh,  Jorn !  what  will 
Thiess  say!  .  .  .  Did  you  know  that  Thiess  is  back  in  Ham- 
burg? " 

It  was  Lisbeth  Junker  standing  there  before  them,  shaking 
their  hands  as  if  she  would  never  stop.     Her  eyes  were  like 

226 


JORN     UHL  227 

two   brilliant    flames,    like    the    May    fires    upon    Ringelshorn, 
especially  when  she  looked  at  Jorn  Ulil,  especially  Jorn  Uhl. 

"  Is  Thiess  still  here?  " 

"Yes.  Just  fancy!  He's  still  looking  for  Elsbe,  for  he's 
found  out  that  she  didn't  sail  with  the  ship  she  meant  to.  And 
now  one  of  our  acquaintances  will  have  it  that  he  has  seen  her; 
but  there  are  others  who  think  it  possible  that  Harro  Heinsen 
got  away  before  the  war  by  way  of  Copenhagen," 

"  Do  you  know  how  things  are  going  on  in  Wentorf  ?  Or 
have  you  left  there  for  good?  " 

"  My  grandparents  are  dead,"  she  said,  "  but  I  know  the 
new  teacher's  wife  very  well.    I  was  there  only  last  Christmas." 

"And  what  are  you  doing  here?" 
I'm  staying  with  my  aunt.     She  keeps  a  little  shop  for  sta- 
tionery, and  in  my  spare  time  I'm  taking  lessons  in  bookkeeping." 

"  Can  you  tell  us  where  Thiess  is  to  be  found?  " 

"  Yes;   and  I'll  come  with  you." 

So  they  walked  out  to  St.  Paul's,  a  good,  long  distance,  and 
came  into  Mary  Street,  with  its  lofty,  desolate-looking  boarding- 
houses.  They  climbed  four  flights  of  stairs,  and  Lisbeth  Junker 
opened  a  door  at  the  end  of  a  dark  passage.  There  sat  Thiess 
Thiessen  near  a  little  iron  stove.  He  was  holding  a  small 
coffee-mill  between  his  knees  and  grinding  away  so  intently 
that  he  had  not  heard  them  come  in. 

"  Oh,  Jorn !  .  .  ."  he  said,  springing  to  his  feet.  "  There 
you  are  at  last!  .  .  .  Fiete!  My  laddie!  Oh,  Fiete!  .  .  . 
Children,  what  a  wretched  state  of  affairs  this  is!  I'll  have 
the  coffee-beans  ground  in  a  moment,  and  you  shall  drink  as 
much  as  you  like." 

He  was  now  hunting  about  the  room  for  his  slippers.  "  It's 
no  matter,  children;  it's  no  matter!  Here  we  are  all  to- 
gether, and  these  four  walls  are  now  Haze  Farm.  Oh,  the 
poor  little  lass!  .  .  .  Lisbeth,  haven't  you  seen  her  anywhere? 
This  is  the  time  of  day  when  poor  folk's  wives  are  abroad 
in  the  streets,  doing  their  buying.  God  knows,  but  the  poor 
lassie  may  have  naught  to  buy  with.  Just  think,  Jorn.  .  .  . 
Just  picture  to  yourself  that  little  helpless  soul  in  this  great, 
fearful  city.  .  .  .  Fiete,  I  believe  he  beats  her!  He  wants 
to  get  to  America  with  her.  But  I  lurk  about  all  the  wharves, 
so  that  he  sha'n't  get  away  with  her.  How  can  a  man  want 
to  go  to  America?     A  place  like  that,  miles  away  from  Haze 


228  JORN     UHL 

Farm?  Lisbeth,  lass,  you  make  the  coffee  for  them.  Here's 
the  kettle!  In  this  place  the  water  runs  out  of  the  wall.  At 
our  place  down  at  the  Haze  it  runs  against  it.  It's  a  crazy, 
topsyturvy  world." 

Fiete  Cray  pushed  him  back  Into  his  chair,  and  said,  "  Now 
just  sit  still  there,  Thiess,  and  don't  go  thinking  that  she'll  let 
him  beat  her.  Here's  your  other  slipper,  Thiess.  As  soon  as 
she  sees  that  he  no  longer  cares  for  her,  she'll  run  away  from 
him  at  once.  According  to  my  idea  she's  left  him  already, 
only  she  won't  venture  to  come  back  to  Haze  Farm,  and  is 
fighting  her  way  for  herself,  somewhere  or  other.  She's  afraid 
of  you  and  Jorn.     Shame  keeps  her  back." 

Lisbeth  thought  that  might  be  quite  possible;  and  Jcirn 
nodded. 

"  So  there,  now,  Thiess.  .  .  .  And  now  bear  in  mind,"  said 
Fiete,  "  that  we've  a  long  railway  journey  behind  us ;  and  while 
you're  getting  bread  and  coffee  ready,  we  can  go  on  yarning." 

The  conversation  almost  took  a  cheerful,  sociable  tone,  thanks 
to  Fiete  Cray,  who  coaxed  the  old  farmer  to  talk,  and  thanks 
to  Lisbeth,  who  poured  out  the  coffee  and  cut  the  bread. 

"  Sit  down,  old  earthman,"  said  Fiete  Cray,  "  and  be  quiet. 
You  just  see.    We'll  get  Elsbe  back  again  yet." 

"  Yes,  Thiess.  And  now  have  something  to  eat.  Here's 
your  cup." 

"  Do  you  know  what?  "  said  Fiete  Cray,  leaning  back  in  his 
chair  as  if  he  were  quite  at  home.  "  This  reminds  me  of  one 
of  Wieten's  fairy-tales.  I  don't  set  much  store  by  such  things 
now,  but  this  one  has  just  come  to  my  mind.  You,  Thiess, 
are  the  good-natured  old  dwarf  who  took  in  the  two  tattered 
and  weary  travellers.  Then  we  got  a  beautiful  glass  princess 
to  wait  on  us.  And  afterward  we'll  go  off  on  our  journey 
again,  and  find  our  sister  at  last." 

"  It's  just  like  your  impudence  to  say  I'm  made  of  glass!  " 
said  Lisbeth,  pouting.  "  There's  still  a  good  deal  of  the  Cray 
about  you,  it  seems  to  me." 

"  And  you've  grown  so  fine  and  bonnie,"  he  said,  laughing 
in  her  face;  "and  I've  always  thought  you  were  a  bit  like 
glass,  haven't  you,  Jorn  ?  She  never  used  to  go  through  thick 
and  thin  with  us  like  Elsbe  did,  but  alwajs  stood  a  little 
distrustfully  to  one  side.     And  then,  besides,  it's  more  than  a 


JORN     UHL  229 

year  since  such  a  neat  little  minx  has  poured  out  coffee  for 
nie.     Hiank  you  kindly,  Rain-tweet." 

"  You've  always  been  fond  of  putting  your  nose  In  other 
people's  affairs,  and  seeing  more  tiian's  good  for  you,"  she 
said,  with  a  toss  of  her  head.  The  little  maid  no  longer  looked 
at  him  or  even  at  Jcirn,  and  was,  truth  to  tell,  really  a  little 
stiff  and  glassy. 

"Tell  us  about  Elsbc!  "  said  Fiete  Cray,  looking  severely  at 
Thiess.    "  \  ou're  certain  to  have  stood  godfather  in  the  affair." 

"  Yes,"  said  Thiess  'I'hiessen,  w  ith  a  groan.  "  But  what  is 
there  to  tell?  He  used  to  visit  her  at  Haze  Farm,  and  I 
went  on  sleeping  and  noticed  nothing.  I  used  to  say,  '  Child, 
how  pale  you  are!  Diiln't  you  sleep  well  last  night?'  *I 
slept  fine,'  she  said,  '  a  queen  couldn't  have  slept  better.'  And 
I  was  so  glad  to  hear  it.  Once  she  asked  me,  '  Tell  me,  Thiess, 
isn't  there  an  old  law  that  when  young  folk  have  promised  to 
marry  each  other,  they  are  like  married  people  before  God  and 
the  world  ?  '  '  Yes,  child,'  I  said,  '  I've  read  in  some  old  chron- 
icle how  Wolf  Ironhrand,  the  hero  of  Hemmingstedt,  spent  the 
night  before  the  battle  in  the  room  of  his  lady-love.  I  believe 
that's  old  Saxon  or  Frisian  custom.'  Well,  we  left  that  subject, 
and  I  went  on  with  my  day-dreams.  I'd  say,  '  Go  for  a  drive 
into  town,  Elsbe,'  or  Fd  say,  '  Stretch  your  wings  and  have  a 
fly  into  the  forest,  little  Uhl.'  But  she'd  go  about  the  house, 
whistling  and  singing  and  saying,  '  I  don't  want  the  town  and 
I  don't  want  the  wood.  Fm  as  merry  as  a  cricket  where  I  am.' 
I  still  noticed  nothing.  Then  one  day  Harro  Heinsen  came 
riding  up  on  his  bay  mare,  and  leapt  the  rails  by  the  hedge  gate, 
and  said  he  was  going  to  propose  to  Elsbe,  and  laughed. 

"  Well,  and  then  .  .  .  five  or  six  days  afterward  he  came 
back  full  of  abuse  for  his  father  and  for  Klaus  Uhl.  '  They 
neither  of  them  were  worth  a  penny,'  he  said.  They  could 
not  buy  him  a  farm.  When  she  heard  this,  the  little  lass 
seemed  of  a  sudden  to  lose  her  good  spirits  and  looked  quite 
grave.  Fve  never  seen  her  like  that  before.  All  her  great 
happiness  was  dashed  to  pieces.  I  said  to  them,  '  Stay  here 
on  Haze  Farm.  There  is  more  to  be  made  out  of  the  old 
place  if  a  man  was  here  who  liked  work.'  Fm  too  sleepy, 
Fiete.  I  confess  it,  and  I  won't  make  any  secret  about  it. 
But  Heinsen  laughed,  and  said  he  hadn't  come  down  to  being 
a  Geest  farmer  yet.     I  could  see  how  eager  she  was  to  remain, 


230  JORN     UHL 

though.  He  dragged  her  away  from  the  farm  as  one  drags  a 
foal  by  the  halter,  that  looks  around  when  it  gets  to  the  gate 
with  a  long  look  of  regret." 

He  shook  his  head  despairingly,  and  moved  his  feet  about, 
feeling  for  his  slippers,  and  his  eyes  ran  over  with  tears. 

"  I  slept  through  it  all,"  he  went  on,  in  a  querulous  voice; 
"  that's  why  I'm  being  punished  for  it  now.  I  must  sit  here  in 
this  hole,  while  many  a  mile  from  here  Haze  Farm  lies  bask- 
ing in  the  sunlight,  and  the  beautiful  mounds  of  turf  are  piled 
in  the  high  grass,  and  the  catkins  hover  about  in  the  ditches,  as 
if  they  were  listening  to  some  slow,  solemn  music,  and  rock 
themselves  to  the  tune  of  it.  And  I  dream  every  night  and 
look  for  the  child  in  the  reeds  and  can't  find  her,  and  while 
I'm  at  it  I  tumble  into  the  water,  and  wake  up  and  can't  get 
to  sleep  again.  You  can  see  by  that,  Fiete,  what  a  state  I'm 
in  when  I  can't  sleep  any  more.  The  old  woman  who  lives 
near  me  says  it's  homesickness,  and  she  speaks  the  truth.  It's 
a  terrible  attack  of  homesickness  that  I  have.  You  know  my 
little  bedroom  at  Haze  Farm,  children.  If  ever  I  come  back 
to  dwell  in  peace  at  the  Haze,  the  first  thing  I'll  do  will  be 
to  whitewash  it,  and  out  with  those  maps  of  foreign  parts.  .  .  . 
The  old  woman  wants  to  do  what  she  can  for  me.  She's  got  a 
book  on  medicines,  and  gives  me  mercury  and  phosphates.  She 
says  that's  good  for  homesickness.  But  it's  not  only  homesick- 
ness I've  got  —  it's  a  bad  conscience;  and  she  says  there's 
nothing  for  that  in  her  medicine-book.  I  overslept  myself,  and 
that's  why  I  have  to  live  here  in  misery  now,  and  go  running 
about  the  wharves  and  the  streets  all  day,  and  search  about 
among  the  reeds  on  the  moors  at  night." 

This  was  the  way  Thiess  Thiessen  complained.  His  thin, 
drawn  face  looked  very  long,  and  his  little,  blinking,  childlike 
eyes  seemed  entreating  help.  He  kept  moving  his  leather 
slippers  backwards  and  forwards  the  while,  and  sometimes  when 
they  got  out  of  his  reach  he  would  half-raise  himself  from  his 
chair  and  fetch  them  back,  gazing  at  his  visitors  the  while. 

During  Thiess's  explanation  Fiete  Cray  had  been  leaning 
across  the  table  and  gazing  at  the  speaker.  That  comfortable 
feeling  which  the  poor  hunted  brush-maker's  boy  had  so  often 
felt  when  he  reached  Haze  Farm,  in  times  gone  by,  had  come 
over  him  again. 

Lisbeth  looked  at  Thiess  Thiessen  with  those  pensive,  earnest 


JORN     UHL  231 

eyes  of  hers,  and  now  and  again  threw  a  swift  glance  in  Jorn 
Uhl's  direction ;  but  he  was  sitting  there  mute,  his  eyes  fixed 
on  the  table.  His  heart  was  as  though  frozen  and  lifeless  from 
the  illness  he  had  undergone  and  the  new  cares  he  had  to  bear. 
He  did  not  look  even  at  this  maiden  whom  he  had  regarded 
so  affectionately  from  his  earliest  childhood,  and  v\hom  he  had 
loved  so  when  he  was  a  boy,  and  who  was  now  sitting  before 
him  in  the  radiant  freshness  of  her  beauty.  It  was  no  hour  for 
him  to  think  of  love. 

"  I  start  of  a  morning  at  about  eight  o'clock,"  continued 
Thiess;  "  and  of  an  afternoon  I'm  ofif  again  searching  through 
all  the  streets  where  the  poorer  folk  dwell,  and  along  the 
harbor.  And  five  times,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  was  like  that 
of  a  child  about  to  cry,  "  I've  been  by  when  they've  pulled  a 
girl  out  of  the  water.  I  believe  if  ever  she  comes  to  want  she'll 
do  it." 

"  No,"  said  Fiete  Cray,  and  for  the  second  time  he  proved 
himself  a  judge  of  character.  "  She  won't  do  that.  There's 
no  one  clings  more  stubbornly  to  life  than  Elsbe.  You  don't 
know  her.  .  .  .  Have  you  looked  for  the  name  Heinsen  in  the 
directory?     Have  you  been  to  the  police-station?  " 

"  I  haven't  found  a  thing,"  said  Thiess;  "  and  the  worst  of  it 
is  that  many  a  time  when  I'm  looking  for  her,  and  see  some- 
thing that  strikes  my  fancy,  I  get  dreaming  over  it,  and  stay 
there  and  forget  everything;  for  example,  I  fall  to  pondering 
what  the  trolley-driver's  thinking  about,  and  how  many  children 
the  tram-conductor  has,  and  where  the  big  dog  sleeps  at  night 
and  who  he  belongs  to,  and  what  the  haggard  old  newspaper 
woman  must  have  looked  like  when  she  was  still  young  and 
sprightly.  And  then  on  the  wharf,  Fiete,  I  wonder  what's  in 
the  bales  and  sacks,  and  what  sort  of  a  look  the  people  and  lands 
have  where  these  things  come  from.  And  then  the  Punch  and 
Judy  show  down  by  the  Sailors'  Arms.  Eh,  Lisbeth?  That's 
the  best  thing  in  all  Hamburg,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Have  you  no  friends  or  acquaintances,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  fellow,  somewhat  embarrassed,  "  they've 
got  a  kind  of  club  here." 

"What!" 

"  Well,  you  see,  it's  this  way.  Here  to  the  left  there  lives  a 
cobbler  who  comes  from  the  Geest,  not  far  from  ]\Ieldorf,  and 
right  up  there  —  do  you  see,  Fiete  ?  —  there,  close  to  the  tele- 


232  JORN     UHL 

graph  wires,  one  of  the  Strackelmeiers  lives  —  you  know,  the 
Strackehneiers  of  Hinthorp.  You  know  the  family,  Fiete. 
You  once  bought  a  dog  from  them  and  sold  it  to  me.  A  beast 
that  was  no  good,  Fiete,  and  had  never  been  properly  trained. 
He  luis  a  wnfe  and  grown-up  children,  but  1  believe  his  wife 
doesn't  get  on  very  well  with  him,  and  he's  a  small,  insignifi- 
cant man  to  look  at.  He's  glad  when  he  gets  down  and  away 
from  his  room  up  by  the  telegraph  wires." 

"  Oh!    and  so  they  all  come  here  to  you,  eh,  Thiess?" 

"  Yes.  You  see,  they  have  a  sort  of  club ;  a  club  is  something 
the  same  as  what  knock-off  time  is  with  us.  So  we  sit  together 
here  a  bit  and  have  a  crack." 

"  What!    do  they  both  come  here  to  you?  " 

"  Yes,  always.  That's  just  it  —  they  are  both  a  little  home- 
sick. You  haven't  an  idea,  Fiete,  how  much  homesickness  there 
is  in  this  big  tov\  n.  Every  third  man  has  it ;  not  only  those 
who  were  born  free  in  the  open  country,  but  their  children, 
too,  have  it  in  tlieir  blood.  It's  only  the  third  generation  that 
begin  to  take  it  in,  how  clever  and  knowing  it  is  to  live  in  flats 
one  above  the  other  in  narrow  streets.  .  .  .  Well,  these  two 
poor  men  come  to  me;  for  I  heat  the  room  with  turf  from 
Tunkmoor;  Eggert  Witt  brings  it  to  me  by  the  sack.  And 
on  top  of  each  sack  there  is  always  —  not  a  golden  bowl,  Fiete, 
but  a  good  fresh  loaf  of  home-made  black  bread.  So  you  see 
that  this  sack  is,  so  to  say,  our  club's  foundation-stone.  You 
have  noticed,  Lisbeth,  how  a  little  smoke  always  comes  out 
when  Strackelmeier  opens  the  stove.  He  does  it  on  purpose, 
just  because  he  wants  to  get  a  sniff.  Fiete,  you  know  the  old 
thatched  cottage  between  Brickeln  and  Quickborn,  just  where 
the  road  turns  off  to  Grossenrahde ;  well,  that's  where  he  comes 
from.  His  father  had  a  rye-paddock  there  to  grow  enough  for 
bread,  and  a  little  bit  of  turf-bog  to  bake  the  bread  with.  The 
house  had  no  chimney,  and  the  smoke  found  its  way  out  by 
itself.  He  grew  up  in  the  smoke.  He's  all  wrinkled  brown 
with  it,  and  that's  why  he  keeps  so  well  preserved.  When  he 
comes  in,  he  raises  his  nose  high,  and  wants  to  be  terribly 
sociable;    doesn't  he,  Lisbeth?" 

"  Come,"  said  Fiete  Cray,  "  it's  time  for  us  to  be  going  to 
our  lodgings.  You'll  soon  look  a  different  man,  Jorn.  Don't 
you  trouble,  Thiess;    1  know  a  very  good  place  for  us  to  stay 


J  O  R  N     U  H  L  233 

at  in  King  Street.  Won't  you  and  Lisbeth  come  a  piece  of 
the  way  with  us?  " 

So  they  all  four  walked  along  together.  Evening  hud  fallen ; 
it  had  been  raining  heavily  and  was  still  dri/,/,ling.  Yellow 
and  whitish  liglits  fell  upon  the  dark  streets,  and  on  tlie  watery 
mirrors  of  the  pavement.  And  Thiess  turned  his  head  and 
stopped,  and  then  ran  in  order  to  catch  up  u  ith  them,  his  hob- 
nailed boots  clattering  on  the  pavement. 

"  It's  just  the  sort  of  weather  for  her  to  be  out,"  he  said; 
"  the  sort  of  weather  for  people  who  are  ashamed,  and  arc  not 
well  dressed,  and  sad."  He  looked  up  at  them  with  a  shy 
smile.  "  1  am  thinking  I'd  like  to  walk  up  and  down  a  bit 
here,"  he  said. 

"You'll  get  wet  through,  Thiess;  take  the  umbrella,"  said 
Lisbeth. 

"  No,  no.  I'll  soon  get  dry  again.  .  .  .  You  two  will  come 
and  see  me  again  to-morrow,  will  you?  And  take  care  to 
bring  Lisbeth  safe  home." 

So  he  said  good-by,  and  they  stood  looking  after  him.  They 
saw  his  back  all  glistening  with  rain,  as  he  went  trotting  along 
in  his  high  top-boots.  Several  passers-by  stopped,  and  looked 
after  the  little  man. 

"  Oh,  Thiess,  Thiess,"  said  Fiete  Cray,  "  when  we  were 
children  and  }ou  used  to  play  Tom  Fool  to  make  us  laugh, 
who  would  ever  have  suspected  what  was  in  you!  This  is  a 
bad  day  for  the  children  of  Wentorf!  Come  along,  now, 
Lisbeth." 

The  three  walked  on  in  silence.  After  awhile  Fiete  Cray 
said,  "  I'll  just  go  into  this  inn,  and  wait  till  you  come  back. 
You'll  see  Lisbeth  home;  that's  your  business,  you've  always 
been  hand  and  glove  together." 

Jorn  went  with  Lisbeth  as  far  as  her  aunt's  door.  They 
had  little  to  say  to  each  other.  He  asked  her  this  and  that 
about  her  daily  life,  and  she  told  him  how  kind  and  good  her 
aunt  was  to  her,  and  how  her  life  was  rather  quiet  and  lonely 
and  a  little  hopeless;  in  other  respects  she  had  little  to  com- 
plain of.  She  said  all  this  in  the  same  reserved,  shy  way  in 
which  she  had  always  spoken.  To  her  questions  he  gave  but 
short  and  scanty  answers.  She  said  not  a  word  about  the 
times  of  her  girlhood.  As  he  gave  her  his  hand  to  say  good-by 
she  thawed  a  little,  and  held  his  hand  fast  in  hers,  and  said. 


234  JORN     UHL 

"  In  the  summer  holidays,  Jorn,  I'm  coming  to  Wentorf ;  and 
I  am  coming  to  see  you,  too,  mind." 

But  as  he  seemed  to  take  no  notice  of  her  words,  she  quickly 
let  his  hand  go  and  vanished  behind  the  gently  closed  door. 

He  found  Fiete  Cray  waiting  at  the  inn.  "  Oh,  ,  .  ."  said 
Fiete,  "  I  thought  your  good-by  would  have  taken  a  bit  longer! 
But  I  suppose  you  know  best!  .  .  .  And  now  I'll  tell  you 
something.  I'm  not  going  to  see  Thiess  Thiessen  again,  nor 
Lisbeth  Junker  either,  nor  Wentorf  either,  but  I'm  going 
straight  back  to  America  to-morrow." 

"  What?  "  said  Jorn  Uhl.  "  Do  you  mean  to  say  you're  going 
away  again  without  having  seen  your  parents?  " 

"  My  parents,"  he  said,  "  have  cost  me  dear  enough  already. 
Don't  pull  such  a  stupid  face,  Jorn,  and  I'll  tell  you  about  it. 
Last  summer  when  I  got  to  Wentorf,  just  before  the  war 
broke  out,  in  order  to  claim  a  small  legacy,  what  did  I  hear 
but  that  my  aunt  wasn't  dead  at  all.  Some  rogue  of  a  farmer 
had  played  a  practical  joke,  and  written  a  letter  to  my  father, 
saying  she  was  dead,  and  would  he  come.  So  Jasper  Cray 
put  on  his  black  Sunday  coat  and  went  into  town,  but  in  the 
gladness  of  his  heart  that  the  old  body  was  dead  at  last,  he 
bought  five  or  six  great,  big,  expensive  wreaths,  with  long 
ribbons  and  beautiful  inscriptions  on  them ;  these  he  took  with 
him  into  an  inn  and  there  drunk  a  little  more  than  was  good 
for  him.  In  this  condition,  with  his  wreaths  strung  over  his 
arm  and  shoulder,  he  arrived  at  my  aunt's.  She  happened  to 
be  sitting  at  the  window  when  he  came  up.  Well  —  you  can 
paint  the  rest  of  the  picture  for  yourself.  ...  So  Jasper  Cray 
came  back  home  again,  wreaths  and  all.  Mother  cried  and  he 
whistled.  He  whistled,  and  hung  the  six  wreaths  around  the 
four  walls  of  our  room.  You  know,  Jorn,  we  Crays  have  a 
great  fancy  for  gay,  bright  things.  It  looked  famous,  I  can 
tell  you.  The  broad,  white  ribbons  hung  down  over  the  chair- 
backs,  so  that  we  had  the  words  on  them  right  before  our  eyes : 
'  Though  lost  to  sight  to  memory  dear,'  '  In  sad  and  loving 
memory,'  and  '  Till  we  meet  again,'  and  so  on.  And  while 
I'm  sitting  there  and  mother's  telling  me  the  miserable  story, 
and  I'm  thinking,  '  It's  for  this  you've  left  house  and  home 
and  wife,  and  come  five  thousand  miles,'  who  should  come  in 
but  the  town-messenger  of  Mariendonn.  '  War  against  France,' 
he  says,  and  gives  me  a  slap  on  the  shoulder.    '  You've  just  come 


JORN     UHL  235 

in  the  nick  of  time,  Fiete  Cray,  and  have  to  serve  along  with 
the  others.'  So  I  sat  down  and  wrote  to  Trina:  '  Such  and 
such  is  the  state  of  affairs,  and  1  hope  to  come  back  safe  and 
sound,  and  when  I  come  see  if  I  don't  carry  you  in  my  arms 
for  a  month.'  I  thought  of  being  away  three  months  or  so, 
Jorn,  and  it's  nearly  a  year,  now,  since  I  left  her,  and  I've 
never  heard  a  word  from  her.  So  you  can't  be  surprised  that 
I'm  anxious  about  her,  can  you?  although,  mind  you,  I  left 
her  in  the  care  of  a  good  friend.  What's  the  object  of  going 
back  to  Wentorf?  .  .  .  And  one  thing  more,  Jcirn  Uhl.  If 
things  at  the  Uhl  go  too  much  askew,  don't  go  burying  your- 
self forever  in  this  poverty  and  misery,  but  tear  yourself  loose 
from  the  whole  business  and  come  over  to  me." 

Jorn  Uhl  laid  his  clenched  fist  on  the  table  and  said, 
"  From  the  time  I  was  twelve  I  have  done  nothing  but  worry 
and  work  for  the  sake  of  the  Uhl.  I'm  determined  to  see 
whether  I  can't  wrench  it  out  of  their  hands  after  all." 

Next  morning  Fiete  Cray  took  ship  back  to  America,  and 
Jorn  Uhl  returned  to  Wentorf.  As  soon  as  Thiess  Thiessen 
had  seen  Jorn's  train  steam  out  of  the  station,  he  went  through 
the  city  streets  and  renewed  his  search. 

For  eight  years  he  lived  in  Hamburg  continuing  his  search, 
and  Peter  Suhm,  Hans  Suhm's  son,  managed  Haze  Farm  for 
him  the  while. 

Sometimes  tortured  by  the  pangs  of  homesickness,  he  would 
walk  or  go  by  train  back  to  the  Haze,  loitering  around  the 
house,  drinking  in  the  air,  paying  little  visits  to  moor  and 
forest,  and  running  over  to  Jorn  Uhl  at  Wentorf,  making  all 
sorts  of  little  alterations  on  the  farm,  as  if  he  meant  to  stay 
there  for  good,  and  would  remain  four,  nay,  in  very  bad  at- 
tacks of  his  malady,  even  eight  weeks  at  a  stretch.  Then  rest- 
lessness and  sleeplessness  would  come  upon  him,  and  he  had 
to  tear  himself  away  from  home  with  ever  the  same  recurring 
smart,  and  bury  himself  in  the  big  town  again,  and  live  in 
his  little  room  with  his  iron  stove,  and  his  turf  and  his  club, 
and  seek  and  seek  through  the  long  streets. 

Those  who  dwelt  by  the  side  of  the  road  that  goes  from 
Wentorf  to  Hamburg  by  way  of  Itzehoe  and  Elmshorn,  must 
remember  him  still ;  for  he  generally  wandered  along  this  long 
highway  on  foot,  being  convinced  that  some  day  or  other  he 


236  JORN     UHL 

would  meet  her  returning  home  that  way.  And  those  who 
live  in  Hamburg  and  around  St.  Paul's  as  far  as  the  Elbe 
road  must  recollect  the  little  man  they  so  often  saw  tramping 
through  the  streets  in  his  big  country  boots  and  his  short, 
thick,  dark  gray  jacket,  and  searching  about  with  his  little, 
childlike,  eager  eyes.  There  was  something  of  an  odd  monot- 
onous jog  in  his  walk;  it  was  a  jog  such  as  folk  get  who 
have  repeatedly  to  traverse  the  same  paths.  What  chiefly 
struck  people,  however,  was  that  he  didn't  pass  along  the  street 
with  indifferent  or  inattentive  gaze,  but  that  his  ferret-like  eyes 
seemed  to  dart  every^where  between  the  passing  men  and 
women ;  they  noticed  how  at  times  he  would  stand  back  and 
lean  against  a  wall,  and  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  at  a  time 
watch  with  shrewd,  yet  kindly,  dreamy  eyes  something  or  other 
that  had  roused  his  interest  in  the  hurly-burly  of  the  streets. 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

At  various  times  in  their  history  the  people  of  this  province 
have  returned  home  in  various  moods,  according  as  they  were 
conquerers  or  conquered.  For  the  land  of  Schleswig-Holstein 
has  from  time  immemorial  been  a  very  cradle  of  peoples  and 
princes. 

In  olden,  far-off  days,  when  the  land  had  grown  too  narrow 
for  the  folk  who  dwelled  there,  they  equipped  their  big-bellied 
ships  with  long  oars  of  ashwood  and  broad  gray  sails,  and 
sailed  oversea  to  Britain.  And  a  few  boats  returned  with 
scanty  crews,  who  went  about  from  farm  to  farm,  their  long 
hair  tied  with  gay-colored  ribbons  of  wool,  and  brought  greet- 
ings and  messages  from  those  over  there  in  the  new  land.  And 
the  messengers  said  that  the  land  was  fair,  with  broad  plains 
for  horses  to  graze  on,  and  deep  lakes  with  fine  fish  in  them, 
and  that  the  people  who  lived  there  were  conquered  ;  and  that 
they  had  been  sent  to  say  that  the  gray-eyed  Mechtild  should 
come  over,  and  Traut,  the  red-haired  maid,  and  little  Emma 
and  many  another,  to  be  mistresses  there  on  the  broad  farms, 
and  have  many  nimble  thralls  and  servants  to  do  their  bidding. 
And  as  the  messenger  went  through  the  farm-gate  on  his  way, 
he  shouted  in  his  pride  and  glee  and  flung  his  spear  into  the 
branches  of  the  nearest  linden. 

Five  hundred  years  later  they  were  away  eastward,  driving 
out  the  Wends,  who  had  made  a  foray  into  their  land.  But 
bet\veen  Neumiinster  and  Eutin,  as  they  were  turning  the 
corner  of  a  certain  wood,  lo!  the  wood  became  alive  with 
men.  Swift  Wends  \\ere  suddenly  upon  them,  darting  back- 
wards and  forwards  till  their  heads  were  all  in  a  whirl,  and 
still  swifter  Wendish  arrows  darted  through  the  air,  disabling 
many  a  stalwart  man.  That  time  they  came  home  to  their 
firesides  w  ith  long  drooping  moustaches  and  gloomy  looks. 

Another  five  hundred  years  and  the  Dane  was  harrj'Ing  the 

237 


238  J  0  R  N     U  H  L 

land.  Its  wealth  and  the  yeomen's  long-haired  daughters  had 
enticed  him  thither.  They  called  out  the  land-guard,  the  bells 
from  every  village  rang  out  their  tocsins,  and  beacon-fires 
flamed  along  the  dikes.  The  sea,  their  neighbor  and  at  most 
times  their  foe,  made  a  league  with  them  for  three  days,  and 
they  smote  their  enemy,  and  caught  his  army  by  the  throat 
and  smothered  it  in  the  mire  of  the  bogs.  And  when  Hinnerk 
Wiebers  returned  to  his  farm,  he  found  his  wife  sitting  by 
the  hearth,  and  flung  at  her  feet  the  golden  cups  that  he  had 
got  in  the  pillage  of  the  king's  carriage,  and  laughed  as  he  tied 
up  his  tawny  hound  with  the  golden  chain  which  Duke  Adolf 
of  Holstein  had  hung  around  the  neck  of  the  proud  chevalier 
of  Wisch. 

Various  were  the  moods  in  which  they  returned  home  from 
abroad.  Not  always  with  the  exultation  of  a  victor.  .  .  . 
Five  and  twenty  of  them  from  Hemmerwurth  —  which  is  a 
little  village  at  the  mouth  of  the  Eider  —  manned  two  ships 
and  declared  war  against  Hamburg,  and  would  fain  have 
blockaded  the  Elbe.  Hemmerwurth  against  Hamburg.  They 
were  taken  prisoners  and  cast  into  the  tower  where  the  dun- 
geons are  darkest.  Finally,  those  of  them  were  released  who 
could  pay  their  share  toward  the  thousand  Liibeck  marks 
ransom  that  Hamburg  demanded.  All  of  them  could  do  so 
except  Maas  Jarring.  He  had  no  money.  Neither  would  any 
of  his  comrades  help  him,  for  he  had  a  wanton  tongue,  and 
was  a  rogue  to  boot.  In  his  despair,  therefore,  he  gave  his 
companions  who  were  returning  home  a  written  pledge,  swear- 
ing by  St.  Anne  of  Bosbiittel,  the  grandmother  of  the  blessed 
Redeemer,  that  he  would  marry  Telse  Bokel,  who  was  no 
beauty.  So  she  paid  his  ransom  for  him,  and  he  was  released 
and  came  back  home.     Not  with  the  exultation  of  a  victor. 

There  is  no  end  to  such  stories.  For  the  land  is  old,  and 
has  witnessed  many  a  strange  thing. 

Jorn  Uhl  did  not  return  with  the  feelings  of  a  victor,  nor 
did  he  by  any  means  expect  any  one  to  hail  or  honor  his  coming 
with  flag  or  festival.  On  the  contrary,  it  seemed  quite  natural 
to  him  that  it  was  gloomy  weather,  and  that  the  long  sullen 
ships  of  fog  should  be  moored  on  both  sides  of  his  way  through 
the  fields. 

In  the  half-light  of  evening  he  saw  that  the  land  had  been 
badly  ploughed,  and  that  the  wheat-fields  were  unevenly  sown. 


JORN     UHL  239 

The  hedge-gate  of  the  grazing-paddock  was  broken  down,  and 
lay  projecting  into  the  road,  so  that  the  cart-wheels  had  had 
to  make  a  bend  to  avoid  it.  "lliey  had  all  been  too  lazy  to 
put  the  obstacle  aside.  He  laid  his  bundle  down  in  the  wet 
grass,  and  put  the  gate  on  its  hinges  again. 

As  he  issued  from  the  lane  of  poplars  he  saw  light  stream- 
ing from  the  iiigh  unshuttered  windows;  it  fell  bright  upon 
the  stones  of  the  courtyard,  and  touched  the  sandstone  door- 
posts, so  that  the  golden  letters  on  them  gleamed,  showing 
where  the  names  of  the  Uhls  that  had  lived  on  the  farm  were 
inscribed  from  generation  to  generation.  As  Jorn  Uhl  looked, 
young  people  came  out  over  the  threshold,  talking,  and  glancing 
up  to  see  what  the  weather  was  like,  and  then  went  inside 
again.  He  withdrew  deeper  into  the  shadows  of  the  poplars, 
and  went  along  the  servants'  path  to  the  back  of  the  house, 
where  there  was  a  door  that  led  into  the  threshing-floor.  The 
young  people  had  caught  sight  of  a  dim  form  passing,  and 
one  of  them  said,  "  There's  a  fellow  going  to  stand  at  Wieten 
Klook's  window." 

A  moment  afterward  he  heard  his  brother's  voice :  "  Man 
alive!  if  I  didn't  know  he's  got  typhus,  I'd  have  sworn  that 
that  was  Jorn." 

He  tried  to  make  as  little  noise  as  possible  with  his  iron- 
clamped  shoes,  and,  coming  to  the  door,  was  surprised  to 
find  it  open ;  for  this  was  part  of  Wieten's  work,  and  was 
always  attended  to.  With  his  hand  stretched  out  before  him 
in  the  dark,  he  passed  across  the  long  floor.  He  gave  his 
arm  a  knock  against  a  piece  of  wood,  and  recognized  the  oat- 
box  in  front  of  the  horse-racks.  Next  moment  his  foot  made  a 
rustle  in  some  straw,  and  the  soft  sound  told  him  that  they 
were  oat-sheaves.  He  stooped  and  caught  hold  of  the  head  of 
the  sheaf,  which  had  ripened  and  been  harvested  while  he  was 
away  in  France,  and  was  now  lying  there  for  the  flail  of  the 
thresher.    Then  he  began  to  feel  himself  at  home  once  more. 

And  again  he  wondered  that  the  door  that  led  into  the 
middle  hall  stood  open,  and  that  flickering  firelight  fell  on 
the  floor  from  the  open  kitchen  door,  as  though  to  guide  some 
one  thither  through  the  dark.  He  stole  up  to  the  kitchen 
slowly  and  hesitatingly,  ready  to  go  to  his  room  at  once  if 
strangers  were  there.  But  there  was  nobody  but  ^Vieten 
sitting  there  knitting  by  the   unsteady  light  of  the  fire,  with 


240  JORN     UHL 

her  spectacles  on  her  nose,  and  looking  over  the  top  of  her 
spectacles  at  him ;  he  heard  her  voice  trembling  with  restrained 
feeling,  saying,  "  And  there  thou  art  at  last  .  .  .  laddie.  .  .  . 
I  have  been  expecting  thee  all  day.  ...  I  have  got  the  coffee 
on.     See  .  .  .  it'll  soon  be  ready." 

She  had  stood  up  and  was  trying,  after  the  way  of  our 
people,  to  control  her  feelings;  she  put  out  her  hand  to  catch 
hold  of  the  kettle  that  was  on  the  knob.  But  her  great  long- 
ing and  the  joy  in  having  him  home  safe  and  sound  once  more 
caught  her  outstretched  hand  and  forced  it  in  another  direction. 
And,  lo!    there  lay  the  hand  trembling  on  his  arm. 

"  Wieten!  "  he  said,  "  my  old  Wieten !  "  He  felt  shyly  for 
her  hand,  and  took  it  caressingly  in  his.  "  Art  thou  so  glad, 
then,  that  I  am  back  again?  And  hast  thou  been  well  all 
the  while  I  have  been  away,  Wieten?  And  art  still  hale  and 
hearty,   eh  ?  " 

She  could  only  nod,  for  something  kept  rising  in  her  throat 
and  choking  her  voice.  Then  she  laid  her  knitting  away  on 
the  window-sill,  and  said,  "  Bring  it  into  the  sitting-room  to 
us,  Lena." 

Then  for  the  first  time  Jorn  noticed  a  tall  girl  standing 
over  by  the  dresser  gazing  at  him.  The  firelight  now  fell  on 
her  as  she  crossed  the  room,  and  he  looked  at  her,  and  her 
looks  pleased  him;  for  she  was  tall  and  well  grown,  and  had 
a  certain  dignity  in  her  walk.  Her  face,  besides,  was  fresh- 
colored,  all  white  and  pink  and  softly  rounded,  and  her  hair 
was  yellow  and  wavy ;  only  around  the  ears  there  were  little 
curls  big  enough  for  one  to  put  one's  finger  into.  Jorn  thought 
he  had  never  yet  seen  so  fresh  and  comely  and  at  the  same  time 
so  decent  a  girl.  And  it  pleased  him,  too,  to  see  how  she 
nodded  to  him  and  wished  him  good  evening,  and  looked  at 
him  with  such  frank  curiosity  and  such  kindly,  earnest  eyes. 

It  was  a  good  sign  that  the  first  question  he  asked  after 
he  came  home  was  about  this  girl. 

"  Where  in  the  world  did  you  get  her  from,  Wieten?  " 

"  Oh,  that  is  Lena  Tarn,"  she  said.  "  She's  been  here  in 
service  since  November.  .  .  .  And  now  drink  your  coffee,  Jorn. 
They're  at  their  capers  again  in  the  front  room.  Hinnerk's 
been  buying  horses,  and  it's  not  enough  that  he's  paid  through 
the  nose  for  them,  but  he  must  go  and  give  the  dealers  a  wine 


JoRN     UHL  241 

supper  as  well.  .  .  .  She  gets  sixty  shillings  a  year  as  wages 
— a  great  deal  too  much,  In  my  opinion." 

"  Is  she  really  as  good  as  she  looks?  " 

"  Oh,  as  you  know  well  enough,  Jorn,  there's  always  some 
drawback  to  them.  .  .  .  She  sings  too  much  for  my  fancy." 

"Sings,  does  she?     But  she  looks  so  sensible." 

"  Oh,  I  see.  \'ou  think  she  nmst  be  a  bit  of  a  saint  because 
she  looks  so  grave  and  innocent,  eh,  laddie?  But  not  by  a 
long  way,  Jorn  —  not  by  a  long  way.    Anything  but  that." 

"  Rather  wild,  is  she?  " 

"  No.  I  wouldn't  like  to  say  that  of  her.  It's  only  that 
she's  so  sing}',  and  she's  a  trifle  too  saucy  and  plain-spoken 
for  me.  That's  a  thing  I  don't  like  in  a  girl.  .  .  .  There,  do 
you  hear  that?  " 

They  could  hear  her  singing  away  to  herself  in  the  next 
room. 

"  But,  Wieten,  I'd  like  to  know  who'd  sing  if  not  young 
girls.  .  .  .   Does  she  share  your  room?" 

"  Yes;  she  sleeps  there,  too.  That's  one  of  the  conditions 
she  made  when  she  entered  service  here.  Her  parents  are 
respectable  folk,  and  she  likes  to  keep  to  herself.  I  must  say 
that  for  her.  But,  as  I  say,  she's  too  singy,  and  wants  too 
much  of  her  own  way.  That's  all  I've  got  to  say  about  her. 
.  .  ,   Now,  do  drink  your  coffee,  Jorn." 

He  ate  and  drank,  and  then  said:  "  Now,  Wieten,  just  sit 
yourself  down  in  that  chair  of  yours,  and  tell  me  how  it  came 
about  that  you  were  expecting  me  home  to-night?" 

"  What  a  question,  Jorn!  Do  you  think  1  couldn't  feel  it  in 
all  my  limbs  that  you  were  on  your  way  back?  The  doors 
would  have  been  left  open  for  you  all  night,  and  I  wouldn't 
have  stirred  from  the  fireside,  and  that's  a  fact,  Jorn," 

She  had  opened  his  bundle  and  spread  out  his  linen,  and 
was  astonished  to  find  it  all  in  such  good  repair.  He  told 
her  how  a  kind-hearted  woman  had  given  him  a  good  supply 
while  he  lay  ill  in  the  lazaret, 

"  And  then,  Jorn,"  she  said,  after  awhile,  "  it  was  high  time 
you  came  home  again." 

She  went  ofif  to  the  wash-house  for  a  moment,  and  then 
came  back  again  and  stirred  the  glowing  turf-fire  with  the 
tongs,  and  he  saw  that  she  was  weeping.  "  One  can't  shut 
one's  eyes  to  the  way  everything's  going  to   ruin   on   a  farm 


242  JORN     UHL 

where  one's  grown  old  and  gray.  And  there's  Elsbe's  life 
ruined,  and  then  what's  to  become  of  you,  Jorn?  I  feel  as 
if  you  two  were  my  own  children,  and  so  I  must  just  tell  you 
everything.  There  isn't  an  afternoon  goes  by  but  your  father 
drives  off  into  town,  and  then  comes  back  and  sits  in  the  public- 
house  that's  kept  by  that  Torkel.  You  know  the  man,  Jorn; 
he  has  a  good-for-nothing  wife  and  two  loose-living  daughters. 
And  your  brothers  have  grown  worse  than  ever  with  their 
drinking  ways,  and  are  always  running  after  the  girls.  I  know 
for  a  fact,  too,  that  there  are  some  people  who  want  money 
paid  back  that  they've  been  swindled  out  of  by  them.  Up  to 
the  present  I've  lived  an  honest  life,  Jorn,  and  grown  gray 
without  disgrace." 

The  ruin  of  his  family  now  loomed  huge  and  threatening 
before  him.  He  went  to  the  window;  and  Wieten  went,  too, 
still  weeping  to  herself,  and,  as  she  stood  there,  chanced  to 
look  out.  It  was  a  starry  moonlight  night,  although  some- 
what misty  and  cloudy.  She  began  lamenting  that  she  had 
not  made  them  carry  away  the  plough  that  was  lying  there 
across  the  drive.  One  could  see  the  polished  iron  gleaming 
in  the  moonlight.  "  The  man  who  had  been  ploughing  was 
tipsy,  and  didn't  want  to  go  out  in  the  rain  again.  When  your 
father  comes  home  to-night,  his  horses  may  shy  at  it." 

"  The  horses  are  accustomed  enough  to  night-work  by  this 
time,"  he  said.     "  Come,  let  us  go  to  bed  now." 

"  But  won't  you  look  into  the  front  room  and  let  your 
brothers  know  you're  come  back  again,  Jorn?" 

"  No.  I've  come  home  rather  too  soon  for  them.  Let  us 
go  to  sleep,  now.  Is  that  girl  in  bed  yet?  Give  an  eye  to 
her,  Wieten,  and  see  that  she  doesn't  fall  into  the  hands  of 
those  louts  in  there.  It  would  be  a  pity.  Elsbe's  gone  to 
the  bad,  —  let  one  be  enough." 

They  parted  without  saying  good  night,  for  almost  before 
they  had  finished  what  they  had  to  say,  they  were  both  lost 
in  anxious  thought.  After  his  old  custom,  Jorn  threw  himself 
down  on  his  bed  without  undressing,  so  as  to  be  ready  to 
attend  to  the  horses  when  his  father  came  home.  But  he 
could  not  rest,  so  he  got  up  again  and  went  to  the  window 
and  looked  out  into  the  night.  And  Wieten  was  standing  at 
her  window,  too,  at  the  verj'^  same  time,  bending  forward  to 
get   another  look   at   the   plough.      She   sighed   as  she   saw   it 


J  O  R  N     U  H  L  243 

gleaming  there,  and  shook  her  head  as  tliough  in  fear  and 
dread  of  it.  Then  both  lay  down  once  more,  and  when  they 
had  done  so  their  souls  were  drawn  down,  despite  all  will  of 
theirs,  into  vast  abysms  of  gloom  and  dreams,  and  had  no 
power  to  escape.  And  while  they  moaningly  wrestled  with 
the  darkness,  and  whilst  the  maid  Lena,  too,  talked  to  herself 
in  restless  sleep,  there  arose  a  dull  sound  of  something  moving 
in  the  dark  stables,  of  things  dragging  heavily  and  scraping 
over  the  long  floors;  and  the  great  double  doors  between  the 
rooms  flew  open  as  with  a  heavy  blow.  But  none  of  them 
were  able  to  shake  off  their  slumber;  dark,  mighty  hands  held 
them  down  in  sleep. 

A  little  before  six  o'clock  next  morning,  before  day  had  yet 
dawned,  Jasper  Cray  came  into  the  kitchen.  He  was  not  a 
little  taken  aback  when  he  saw  Jorn  standing  near  Wieten 
by  the  fireside.  But  he  said  quietly  enough,  as  though  he 
might  be  speaking  of  an  accident  to  a  cart-horse,  "  Just  come 
out  a  moment,  Jorn,  will  you.  The  master's  cart's  capsized, 
and  he's  fallen  against  the  plough.  I  fancy  he's  got  more  than 
is  good  for  him,"  and  he  tapped  his  forehead  significantly. 

Wieten  Klook  gave  a  loud  cry  and  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands.  "Oh!  the  plough!  "  she  wailed.  "  I  saw  it  all  coming, 
but  couldn't  lift  a  finger  to  hinder  it." 

With  a  spring  Jorn  Uhl  was  outside,  and  found  his  father 
lying  there.  He  was  lying  in  the  damp  grass,  half  in  a  pool 
of  water,  and  was  all  splashed  with  mud.  His  thin  hair  was 
saturated  with  blood,  and  his  muttered  words  showed  that 
his  mind  was  wandering.  He  wanted  to  stay  in  bed,  he  said ; 
they  ought  to  go  away  and  do  the  ploughing,  it  was  too  much 
for  him.  And  then  he  rambled  on  about  how  he  had  got 
under  the  plough  while  laying  the  furrows.  The  chaise  had 
upset,  and  the  horses  had  dragged  the  fragments  of  it  along 
as  far  as  the  barn-door,  where  they  w-ere  found  standing. 

His  people  carried  Klaus  Uhl  into  the  house  and  laid  him 
on  his  bed.  Then  the  doctor  was  sent  for,  and  he  declared 
that  the  shock  and  fright  had  brought  on  an  apoplectic  seizure 
which  had  been  threatening  him  for  years.  He  might  live  to 
be  an  old  man,  and  it  was  possible  that  with  time  his  con- 
dition would  improve;  but  he  would  never  be  able  to  get  about 
again  with  ease.     He  would  never  fully  recover  his  faculties. 


244  JORN     UHL 

Three  days  later  little  Mr,  Whitehead  once  more  made  his 
appearance  at  the  farm.  With  a  grave  look  on  his  face,  he 
went  up  to  Jorn,  who  was  busy  feeding  the  horses.  "  I  have 
heard  of  your  father's  accident,  and  I've  come  to  ask  some- 
thing of  you.  If  you're  agreeable  we'll  just  step  into  that 
little  room  that  used  to  be  your  bedroom  when  you  were  a  lad, 
and  sit  there  with  your  brothers  for  a  bit." 

"  I  sleep  there  still,"  said  Jorn. 

"  Indeed!  "  said  the  old  man,  and  took  a  good  look  at  him. 
"  That's  like  j'ou.  I'm  sorry  that  your  sister,  Elsbe,  has  made 
a  very  unfortunate  marriage,  as  I  hear.  She  was  very  friendly 
and  kind  to  me  that  time." 

Jorn  made  no  answer,  but  led  the  way  to  his  little  bedroom. 
Then  he  went  out  and  called  to  his  brothers  to  come  in. 
They  came  with  surly  reluctance,  and  a  look  of  disdain  on 
their  handsome,  arrogant  faces.  On  the  way  to  France,  Hin- 
nerk,  who  was  in  a  tipsy  state  among  some  of  his  sottish  com- 
panions, had  fallen  and  broken  his  leg  on  the  railway  platform 
at  Diisseldorf,  while  getting  into  the  train,  and  he  had  only 
himself  to  thank  that  he  had  been  unable  to  take  part  in  the 
campaign.  He  was  a  braggart  by  nature,  a  far  greater 
one  even  than  his  father  had  been,  for  he  was  without  his 
father's  intelligence.  He  would  dearly  have  liked  to  go  to 
France  with  the  others,  simply  so  as  to  be  able  to  boast  of 
his  doings  afterward.  It  was  intolerable  that  he  could  not 
strike  his  breast,  and  speak  of  his  part  in  the  great  war.  He 
would  have  been  another  of  those  heroes  who,  in  the  first  years 
after  the  war,  used  to  twirl  first  one  end  of  their  moustache, 
"  'Seventy!  "  then  the  other,  "  'Seventy-one!  "  Then  proudly 
smiling,  with  a  grand  air,  both  ends  together,  adding:  "Went 
through  'em  both!  "  Not  being  able  to  boast  in  this  way,  he 
had  now  begun  to  give  free  play  to  his  coarser  nature.  He 
must  needs  act  the  braggart  —  now  more  than  ever.  He  must 
beat  the  others  at  it,  and  he  did  so  by  living  a  dissolute  life 
and  indulging  in  vulgar  oaths. 

"Now  listen  carefully  to  what  I've  got  to  say!"  said  the 
old  man.  "  I've  been  sent  here  by  the  savings-bank  people, 
and  I've  come  on  my  own  accoimt  as  well.  About  twelve  years 
ago  we  two,  the  bank  and  myself,  had  a  rather  large  sum  of 
money  we  wanted  to  invest,  and  we  offered  it  privately.  Your 
father  took  the  loan,  giving  this  farm,  which  had  been  till  then 


J  O  R  N     U  H  L  245 

unmortgaged,  as  security;  although  the  burden  was  heavy 
enough,  the  farm  could  have  stood  it.  To  tell  the  truth, 
though,  we  were  surprised  at  him  mortgaging  the  place  so 
heavily;  but  he  told  us  he  knew  of  a  capital  investment  for 
his  ready  money,  and  we  believed  him,  for  in  those  days  he 
was  thought  to  be  a  shrewd,  long-headed,  well-to-do  man, 
although  he  was  living  at  a  pretty  fast  pace,  and  spending  a 
lot  of  money.  IJut,  later  on,  we  began  to  see  plain  enough 
how  fast  he  was  going  down-hill,  and  as  his  sons  grew  up, 
they  began  doing  what  they  could  to  help  him  squander  his 
money.  So  we  kept  an  eye  on  his  aifairs,  and  two  years  ago 
we  warned  him  of  how  things  were  going.  Finally  matters 
got  too  bad,  and  now  we  have  had  to  give  him  notice  that  the 
farm  is  no  longer  worth  the  original  valuation.  He  got  the 
letter  three  (Ia\s  ago.  That  same  m'ght  he  met  with  his  acci- 
dent, and  it  has  injured  him,  as  I  hear,  so  badly  that,  though 
he  may  live  on  for  many  a  year,  it's  not  likely  he'll  ever  have 
his  full  mental  powers  again." 

"  So  that's  the  state  of  affairs,  is  it?  "  said  Heinrich.  "  Well! 
well!"  His  face  had  grown  white,  and  his  eyes  had  a  sharp, 
angry  look  in  them. 

"  Yes,  young  man,  that's  how  matters  stand,"  said  the  old 
gentleman,  nodding  his  head.  "  And  now  you  can  take  your 
choice.  Either  we'll  have  to  bring  the  estate  into  the  In- 
solvency Court,  and  in  that  case  it's  a  question  whether  the 
three  of  you  wouldn't  have  to  go  out  into  the  world  without 
a  penny  to  call  your  own,  or  we'll  hand  the  farm  over  to  you, 
Jorn,  regarding  it  as  security  for  the  whole  debt,  and  we'll 
see  what  you  can  make  of  it.  Of  course,  you'd  have  to  be 
responsible  for  the  smaller  sums  that  are  due,  too.  And  as 
for  you  other  two,  we  arc  willing  to  give  you  two  thousand 
marks  each,  on  condition  that  you  agree  to  quit  the  farm  for 
good  and  all.    That's  the  offer  we  have  to  make  you." 

Jfirn  sat  there,  gazing  at  the  old  chest,  ant!  felt  happy. 
"What!  is  the  farm  mine?"  he  thought.  "What!  am  I 
master  here?  "  And  then,  as  suddenly,  he  felt  ashamed  of  such 
thoughts. 

Hinnerk  beckoned  to  Hans,  and  they  left  the  room  together, 
and,  as  of  their  own  accord,  they  went  to  their  father's  bedside. 
Wieten  Penn,  who  had  been  sitting  there,  left  the  room  when 
they  entered. 


246  JORN     UHL 

The}'  had  been  wont  to  come  to  him  only  when  they  wanted 
a  few  gold  pieces  from  him.  This  time  their  visit  was  prompted 
by  far  different  motives.  Their  father  was  lying  in  a  deep 
sleep  and  did  not  hear  them. 

Then  Hinnerk  broke  forth,  declaring  that  old  Whitehead 
was  a  liar.  Things  were  not  so  bad  as  they  looked,  he  said, 
and  they  must  mind  what  they  were  doing  and  not  be  too  hasty 
in  coming  to  a  settlement.  But  though  they  talked  for  some 
time  in  this  strain,  they  did  not  take  long  to  discover  that 
they  had,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  no  doubt  whatever  as  to  the 
truth  of  what  they  had  just  heard ;    so  they  said  no  more. 

Then  they  commenced  to  hurl  reproaches  at  each  other: 
"  You've  gambled  away  thirty  pounds  this  winter,"  and 
"  You've  lost  pretty  well  a  hundred  with  your  clumsy  horse- 
dealing."  They  were  glaring  at  each  other,  and  it  wanted 
little  more  and  they  would  have  come  to  blows.  But  they 
began  to  think  about  their  future,  and  grew  glum  and  moody 
again.  They  had  come  to  that  place  where  a  certain  one  had 
said,  "  I  cannot  dig,  to  beg  I  am  ashamed."  And  a  feeling 
came  over  them  such  as  comes  over  a  man  when  he  dreams 
he  has  lost  both  his  arms  and  has  to  fight  his  way  through 
the  world  v\  ithout  them.  Hinnerk  turned  toward  the  bed  and 
raised  his  clenched  fists,  shouting  the  very  words  his  eldest 
brother  had  once  used  five  years  before:  "What  have  you 
ever  taught  us?  But  there'll  come  a  day  of  reckoning  yet,  man. 
Hark  3'ou !  A  day  is  coming  when  you'll  have  to  pay  for 
your  misdeeds,  I  tell  you,  as  sure  as  God's  in  heaven."  At 
that  moment  he  firmly  believed  in  a  life  beyond  this  world, 
and  did  so  because  he  wished  that  his  father  might  come  to 
judgment  there.  Hans  stood  by  the  bed  mute  and  motionless. 
He  saw  his  father's  face  working  and  twitching  as  with  the 
woe  of  vague  and  wordless  things. 

Hinnerk  tossed  his  father's  clothes  about  Impatiently,  search- 
ing for  the  keys,  and,  having  found  them,  he  unlocked  the 
heavy  polislied  chest  that  stood  in  the  corner  and  hunted  for 
money  In  a  drawer  with  which  he  seemed  familiar.  But  noth- 
ing was  to  be  found  there  beyond  a  piece  of  paper  and  a  little 
gold  necklace  of  old-fashioned  and  clever  workmanship,  to 
which  a  seal  and  a  wedding-ring  were  attached.  He  opened 
out  the  paper  and  found  on  It  a  short  column  of  figures 
showing  the  sum   of   his   father's  debts.      In   addition   to   the 


J  O  R  N     U  H  L  247 

heavy  niortj2;age,  there  were  bills  uf  promise  amounting  to  over 
£500,  Underneath  their  father  had  written  in  a  careful  copy- 
book hand,  "  I  am  at  the  end  of  my  tether." 

"Ho!  ho!"  said  Hinncrk,  "so  that's  how  thinfjs  stand! 
Here  we've  f;;ot  it  in  black  and  white  before  our  very  eyes, 
and  I'll  wager  Jorn  needn't  expect  to  be  long  in  possession, 
either.  He'll  be  badgered  and  baited  to  death  over  these  bills, 
and  then  they'll  wind  up  by  driving  him  from  the  farm 
altogether.  It's  no  use,  Hans,  we  must  pack  up  and  be  off. 
There's  nothing  to  be  had  here.  Not  a  single  rotten  old 
board  on  the  whole  place  can  we  call  ours  any  longer."  He 
took  up  the  little  chain,  tore  off  the  pendants  and  gave  them 
to  his  brother.  Later  on  Hinncrk  lost  the  chain  at  cards. 
Hans,  however,  has  kept  the  golden  trinkets  to  this  day  in 
memory  of  his  mother,  and  always  wore  them  on  his  w^atch- 
chain  even  after  he  had  had  to  sell  the  watch  itself  to  buy 
bread  for  his  children. 

They  took  one  more  look  around  and  went  out.  Old  White- 
head was  pacing  up  and  down  the  big  hall,  and  said  to  them 
as  they  reappeared,  "  Not  found  anything?  Will  you  take  your 
hundred  pounds,  then,  after  all?" 

"  Can  we  get  the  money  to-day?  " 

"  At  four  o'clock  this  afternoon  our  agent  will  be  at  the 
Hollanderei  to  meet  you.     He  will  go  wMth  you  to  the  notary." 

Then  they  went  out  and  packed  their  Sunday  clothes  up  in 
the  little  portmanteaus  they  had  once  used  in  their  soldiering 
days.  They  gave  orders  that  the  horses  should  be  harnessed 
and  that  Jasper  Cray  should  drive  them.  Jorn  followed  the 
latter  into  the  stable.  "  The  turn-out  belongs  to  me,"  he  said, 
in  a  proud,  harsh  voice,  "  and  I  hold  you  responsible  for  it. 
See  that  you  have  it  back  here  at  the  Uhl  in  good  time  this 
evening." 

And  outside,  as  they  stood  beside  the  buggy,  gazing  once 
more  over  the  farm  as  far  as  they  could  see,  over  the  broad 
fields  that  lay  west  of  Ringelshorn,  and  formed  the  most  val- 
uable part  of  the  estate,  they  grew  silent  and  grave.  Hinnerk's 
face  was  white  as  he  stood  there  grinding  his  teeth.  Hans 
said  to  his  youngest  brother,  "  Father  is  the  most  to  blame, 
but  we  haven't  acted  as  we  should,  either.  It's  only  right,  I 
suppose,   that  you  should   be  master  here.     See  that   the   old 


248  J  0  R  N     U  H  L 

place  doesn't  fall  into  the  hands  of  strangers."  He  turned 
around  and  got  up  into  the  vehicle. 

Then  they  drove  ofi  without  casting  a  single  look  behind 
them. 

Jorn  stood  gazing  after  the  buggy  for  a  long  time,  plunged 
deep  in  thought ;  then  he  turned  toward  the  door,  and  found 
Thiess  Thiessen's  little  thin  figure  standing  there  beside  old 
Whitehead. 

"  Jorn,  laddie!  "  he  said.  "  This  old  man,  that  I've  known 
for  thirty  years  and  more,  has  ^ent  to  Hamburg  for  me  to 
come  and  give  you  my  advice  in  this  fix  you're  in.  Jorn,  my 
lad,  as  I've  always  said,  what  has  the  past  got  to  do  with  us? 
Let  the  dead  rest  in  peace.  What  do  we  want  with  Wulf 
Isebrand  or  with  Napoleon?  Yes,  indeed,  I'll  say  the  same 
of  my  sister,  too.  May  she  rest  in  peace.  And  that's  enough 
said  on  that  point.  But  it's  what's  ahead  of  us,  Jorn,  that  we 
must  look  to,  and  look  to  right  well  and  carefully.  We  must 
have  a  care,  Jorn,  we  must  have  a  care  what  we  do.  The 
things  that  are  still  to  happen  in  the  world's  history,  that's 
what  our  trouble  is,  Jorn.  And  as  far  as  you're  concerned  the 
rest  of  the  world's  history  now  lies  right  at  your  very  feet.  .  .  . 
I  was  with  your  father  a  moment  ago,  and  Wietcn  has  told  me 
everything.  Come  along  inside.  Those  marplots  of  brothers 
of  yours  are  gone.  Good  sense  now  reigns  at  the  Uhl.  Come, 
we'll  have  a  cup  of  coffee,  and,  what's  more,  we'll  drink  it  in 
your  little  bedroom  by  the  window.  I'm  to  give  you  kind 
regards  from  Lisbeth  —  a  thousand  of  them,  I  believe  she  said." 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

When  of  a  sudden  some  great  event  like  a  mighty  giant 
bursts  in  upon  mankind,  brushing  them  with  sleeve  and  gar- 
ment as  it  passes,  the  souls  of  those  who  are  touched  start 
and  tremble  and  remain  quivering  with  emotion  for  a  longer 
or  shorter  time,  according  to  the  greatness  or  suddenness  of 
what  has  happened.  It  is  then  that  the  nature  and  character 
of  mortals  reveals  itself,  their  tongues  grow  voluble,  and  their 
ears  sharper.  They  are  then  like  land  that  has  been  ploughed 
deep  and  that  sends  up  a  strong  odor  of  the  fresh  earth. 

They  were  sitting  in  the  little  room.  Gold-rimmed  cups 
with  blue  flowers  on  them  were  standing  on  the  chest.  The 
two  old  men  had  lit  their  short  pipes  and  began  to  console 
the  down-hearted  youth  from  the  high  vantage-ground  of  their 
long  experience  and  settled  position  in  life. 

"  We  want  to  do  what  we  can  for  you,  Jorn,"  said  White- 
head, putting  on  his  pleasantest  look;  "but  at  the  same  time 
we  want  our  money  back." 

"  Especially  the  latter,"  said  Thiess. 

"  At  present,"  the  old  man  went  on  to  say,  "  the  farm  is  a 
little  too  heavily  mortgaged ;  for  there  are  still  certain  bills 
of  promise  to  be  taken  into  consideration,  and  the  working 
plant  is  none  of  the  best.  We  should  be  losing  money  if  we 
brought  the  farm  under  the  hammer,  so  we're  going  to  hand 
it  over  to  you,  my  lad." 

"  You  see,  you've  got  to  earn  the  money  for  them,  Jorn," 
said  Thiess. 

"  Yes,  our  money  for  us,  and  the  farm  for  himself.  Then, 
later  on,  when  prices  rise,  as  they  do  after  every  war,  he'll 
be  able  to  work  off  the  debt  little  by  little,  till  the  day  comes 
when  he  can  say,  *  The  farm's  mine! '  " 

"  What  do  you  say  to  It,  Jorn?  "  asked  Thiess. 

"  What  do  I  say  to  it?  "  cried  Jorn,  and  it  was  the  first  time 

249 


250  JORN     UHL 

in  his  life  that  he  made  a  quick  gesture  to  help  out  his  speech, 
thrusting  out  before  him  his  two  great  empty  hands.  "  Is 
father  to  be  carried  from  the  farm  in  his  bed  ?  Am  I  to  let 
the  old  place  go?  All  that  I  can  do  to  hold  on  here,  that  I 
promise  you  I  will  do.     You  can  make  sure  of  that,  Thiess." 

"  Good !  "  said  Whitehead.  "  Now  let  us  talk  about  some- 
thing else."  He  puffed  vigorously  at  his  short  pipe  and  looked 
benignantly  at  Jorn,  who  was  now  sitting  there  with  that 
same  old  inscrutable  look  on  his  face. 

"  You  must  marry,"  he  said  to  Jorn.  "  It's  not  a  good 
thing  for  man  to  be  alone,  either  by  night  or  by  day,  in  joy 
or  in  sorrow.  You've  a  bit  of  an  inclination  to  fight  shy  of 
double  harness."  And  he  asked  him,  half  in  jest  and  half  in 
earnest,  whether  he  should  choose  a  mate  for  him.  "  I  know 
some  nests  with  golden  eggs  on  the  Geest,"  he  said ;  "  you'd 
be  helping  yourself  and  us  at  the  same  time,  Jorn." 

But  Jorn  only  said,  "  The  housekeeper  will  stay  on  at  the 
Uhl.    A  wife  I've  no  need  of." 

As  he  said  this,  the  fair-haired  Lena  had  come  into  the  room, 
bringing  a  jug  of  cream  for  them.  She  caught  the  words  of 
the  new-fledged  young  landowner,  and  gave  her  head  a  proud 
toss  as  she  thought  to  herself,  "  Don't  we  think  we're  wise, 
to  be  sure." 

"  Do  you  know  what,  Jorn?"  said  old  Whitehead,  genially. 
"  I  knew  that  housekeeper  of  yours  more  than  forty  years  ago. 
I've  a  mind  to  tell  you  both,  but  especially  you,  Jorn,  what 
I  know  of  her  young  days." 

Lena  Tarn  was  about  to  leave  the  room,  but  he  said  to  her, 
"  If  you've  time,  my  girl,  you  can  stay  and  listen,  too.  It 
will  do  you  no  harm  to  hear  the  story.  There's  something  of 
olden  times  about  it.  It  might  have  been  dug  out  of  Rudens- 
berg  where  the  old  Huns'  graves  lie.  The  story's  as  old  as 
the  world  and  as  deep  as  man's  life.  It's  a  long,  long  tale, 
but  I'll  cut  it  short,  and  tell  you  only  the  parts  that  have  to 
do  with  Wieten  Penn." 

Having  said  this,  the  old  man  opened  his  eyes  wide,  took 
a  few  pulls  vainly  at  his  pipe,  and  laid  it  beside  him.  Lena 
Tarn  sat  down  near  Thiess  Thiessen,  whom,  together  with 
Whitehead,  she  had  seen  to-day  for  the  first  time,  and  thought, 
"  They're  a  queer  trio,  and  no  mistake."  While  the  story 
was  being  told,  she  looked  from  one  to  the  other,  with  eyes 


JORN     UHL  251 

full  of  droll  fun  and  curiosity.  She  was  far  more  interested 
in  these  three  people  with  whom  she  was  sitting  than  in  the 
story  itself.  But  it  must  be  confessed  that  it  was  Jorn  she 
looked  at  most,  quietly  admiring  his  long,  grave  face,  with  its 
deep-set,  quiet  eyes.  She  looked  at  him  without  shyness,  but 
with  a  kind  of  trustful  curiosity. 

"  Well,  in  my  young  days  there  lived  in  Schenefeld  a  young 
fellow  who  had  his  share  of  good  looks  and  plenty  of  pride 
in  him,  althoufrh  he  came  of  poor  parents.  He  and  I  went 
to  the  Board  School  there  together.  He  had  always  been  fond 
of  horses,  and  so  later  on  he  got  a  place  as  stable-boy  on  a 
big  estate  near  Schenefeld.  He  did  his  work  well,  and  always 
went  about  the  place  looking  a  bit  gloomy  and  never  had  a 
word  for  any  one.  He  never  seemed  to  show  what  fire  and 
life  there  was  in  him,  except  when  he  rode  the  horses  along 
the  track  that  ran  around  the  farm.  The  master  had  an  only 
daughter,  and  this  girl  used  to  gaze  at  him,  and  go  from  one 
window  to  another,  following  him  with  her  eyes  as  he  rode 
along,  and  her  glance  grew  bright  and  her  cheeks  flushed. 
But  as  for  him,  he  had  no  eyes  for  anything  but  his  horses. 
One  day,  after  she  had  been  watching  him  as  usual,  she  went 
into  the  stable  just  as  he  had  brought  the  horse  in,  and  was 
about  to  groom  it,  and  tried  to  get  him  to  talk  to  her  a  bit. 
But  it  was  always  the  same  —  he  spoke  coldly  to  her,  but 
kindly  enough  to  the  beasts. 

"  Tlien  she  made  up  her  mind  to  go  one  step  farther.  She 
wanted  to  show  him  that  he  was  on  the  wrong  track  if  he 
thought  she  looked  down  on  him  because  he  was  only  a  servant, 
and  that  he  must  show  that  he  had  the  pride  that  belongs  to 
honest  poverty.  So  when  a  good  chance  came  she  said  to  him, 
'  I'd  like  you  to  know  that  in  my  eyes  you're  better  than  all 
the  farmers'  sons  in  the  land  put  together.'  As  soon  as  she 
had  said  it,  she  rushed  away  up  into  the  high  loft  behind  the 
pigeon-house,  and  didn't  come  down  again  for  two  hours  or 
more. 

"  It's  not  rightly  known  exactly  how  far  this  warm-hearted 
girl  went  in  her  admiration  for  him.  Be  that  as  it  may,  a  day 
came  when  she  threw  her  arms  around  her  father's  neck  and 
told  him  that  for  three  nights  she  hadn't  closed  her  eyes,  and 
that  she  must  and  would  marry  the  groom.    Well,  her  father 


252  JORN     UHL 

had  a  soft  heart,  and  she  was  his  only  child,  so  he  gave  his 
consent.     It's  said  that  he  did  it  with  a  heavy  heart,  though. 

"  Anyhow,  it's  certain  enough  that  she  had  let  him  know 
too  plainly  how  fond  she  was  of  him,  and  it  made  him  look 
down  on  her  a  hit.  She  wasn't  the  sort  of  girl  whose  picture 
he,  as  every  young  man  does,  carried  in  his  heart.  She  was 
a  soft,  dreamy  creature,  hot-blooded  and  sentimental.  The 
sort  of  wife  for  him  would  have  been  a  woman  with  quiet,  plain 
ways,  with  a  big,  stately  figure,  and  plenty  of  womanly  dig- 
nity, too. 

"  The  very  next  day  after  the  wedding,  he  spent  the  whole 
morning  among  his  horses,  looking  them  over  and  sorting 
them  out,  and  on  the  following  day  he  drove  in  to  market  and 
bought  and  exchanged  horses.  His  wife  stood  at  the  bedroom 
window  and  gazed  after  him  with  eyes  full  of  angry  tears. 

"  First  a  daughter  was  born  to  them,  and  in  the  course  of 
time  a  son,  but  it  brought  them  no  closer  together;  just  the 
opposite,  in  fact.  For  now  that  she  had  the  children  around 
her,  he  thought  he  could  go  his  own  ways  more  than  ever. 
They  were  the  ways  of  a  diligent,  capable,  honest,  business 
man.  He  went  in  chiefly  for  horse-dealing,  and  made  a  name 
for  himself  in  this  particular  line.  His  wealth  increased,  and 
in  the  course  of  years,  through  having  to  do  with  cavalry 
officers  who  bought  horses  from  him,  he  became  a  man  with  a 
good  knowledge  of  the  world  and  of  polite  and  easy  bearing. 

"  The  more  his  affairs  prospered  the  more  his  inborn  dis- 
position prompted  him  to  look  upon  a  steady,  sober  efifort  to 
get  on  in  life  as  the  only  aim  worthy  of  an  intelligent  man. 
Everything  connected  with  what  people  call  ideals  he  looked 
at  askance.  This  one-sidedness  was  fostered  in  him,  too,  by 
the  sight  of  the  soft  and  fantastic  life  of  sentiment,  as  he 
deemed  it,  that  prevailed  in  his  home,  and  was  exhibited  in 
his  wife,  and  before  long  in  his  children  as  well. 

"  The  husband  was  always  away  from  home,  and  so  the  two 
children  were  wholly  and  solely  in  the  mother's  hands.  They 
didn't  go  to  school,  but  their  mother  taught  them  at  home. 
There  wasn't  much  of  the  schoolroom  style  about  the  way 
she  taught  them,  but,  all  the  same,  the  children  got  on  so 
well  that  the  school  authorities  had  no  reason  to  interfere. 
They  were  taught  chiefly  by  means  of  the  tales  and  fairy-stories 
that  their  mother  told   them,  and  which  they  had   to  repeat 


J  0  R  N     U  H  L  253 

to  her  in  their  own  words.  And  she  made  it  a  rule  that  the 
books  containing  these  stories  should  remain  locked  up  in  a 
cupboard,  and  never  permitted  the  children  by  any  chance  to 
take  one  into  their  hands.  All  their  pleadings  to  be  allowed 
to  see  these  books  were  in  vain.  Sometimes,  on  fine  days  in 
summer,  or  on  holidays,  the  three  of  them  would  dress  up  in 
finery  that  had  belonged  to  their  grandparents,  and  that  lay 
in  a  trunk  in  the  attic;  so  they  decked  themselves  out  in  grand 
costumes,  acting  the  tales  they  had  so  often  heard.  Or  again 
they  would  go,  clad  in  their  simple  every-day  clothes,  into  the 
woods,  and  pass  away  the  afternoon  in  some  glade,  sitting 
camped  around  a  fire,  pretending  to  be  gipsies  or  fugitives  or 
anything  else  that  happened  to  occur  to  them.  And  in  these 
games  and  rambles  they  always  used  to  let  a  little  orphan  girl, 
who  lived  w  ith  them,  take  part.  She  had  been  handed  over 
from  the  poorhouse  to  help  at  the  farm.  And  her  name  was 
Wieten  Penn. 

"  It  seemed  like  the  life  in  some  happy  fairy-tale.  Human 
life  itself,  in  all  its  fulness  of  promise  and  strength,  and  all  its 
gay  and  manifold  variety,  was  here  environed  with  a  world 
that  for  other  eyes  seemed  out  of  joint,  but  which  was,  in 
truth,  fraught  with  freer  and  deeper  significance  for  those  who 
could  see  deeper. 

"  In  this  sort  of  make-believe  the  lonely  wife  found  some 
small  substitute  for  the  lost  love  of  her  husband.  He  would 
only  shrug  his  shoulders  or  make  some  satirical  remark,  and 
then  go  away  to  his  business,  forgetting  all  about  his  wife  and 
children  amid  the  alTairs  of  the  day. 

"  The  mother  was  blind  to  the  way  in  which  the  boy,  who 
had  inherited  far  too  much  of  her  peculiar  nature,  was  sinking 
deeper  and  deeper  into  a  world  that  existed  only  in  dreams. 
Had  he  lived  it  is  certain  that  people  would  have  heard  more 
of  him.  He  had  such  a  quick  insight  that  the  nature  of  things 
was  as  clear  to  him  as  crystal.  But  he  was  absolutely  without 
will  of  his  own  and  had  no  father's  hand  to  guide  him.  So  he 
grew  up  like  we  often  see  a  young  pear-tree  do  when  it's  never 
pruned,  far  too  slender  and  pliable. 

"  The  mother  was  gradually  sinking  into  weak  health,  but 
she  was  too  inert  and  also  too  shy  to  get  a  doctor's  advice; 
so,  after  a  long,  wearisome  illness,  she  died.     At  that  time  the 


254  JORN     UHL 

girl  was  about  sixteen  years  of  age,  and  the  boy  and  Wieten 
Penn  were  about  fourteen. 

"  From  the  time  that  their  mother's  eyes  were  closed,  the 
three  children  were  left  to  drift  helplessly.  As  long  as  the 
dead  body  remained  under  the  roof  they  wandered  aimlessly 
about  the  house,  and  were  afraid  to  look  at  their  father,  who 
seemed  quite  a  stranger  to  them.  When  evening  came  they 
would  slip  away  up  to  the  attic  with  Wieten  Penn,  and  take 
out  the  old  clothes  that  they  had  so  often  played  with,  and 
would  consult  softly  with  each  other  as  to  which  game  they 
would  play.  The  boy  straightway  forgot  his  dead  mother. 
His  eyes  would  gleam  and  he  would  give  way  to  all  sorts 
of  fantastic  pictures  that  thronged  upon  his  mind.  He  would 
fling  the  robes  around  him,  and  in  this  guise  would  be  for 
going  down  into  the  big  room  where  they  had  always  played, 
until  the  others  called  to  him  not  to  make  so  much  noise. 

"  But  when  the  day  of  the  funeral  came,  and  the  whole  house 
was  empty,  —  no  one  but  their  father's  sister  had  stayed  at 
home,  —  the  children  ventured  forth,  and,  having  dressed 
themselves  in  their  fantastic  costumes,  slipped  into  the  room 
where,  only  half  an  hour  before,  their  mother's  coffin  had 
stood,  and  where  flowers  and  wreaths  were  still  lying  scattered 
about,  and  there,  with  hushed  voices,  they  began  to  play. 
Their  mother  had  always  taken  such  innocent  pleasure  in  their 
games  when  she  played  with  them  there,  and  in  these  last 
weeks  she  had  even  talked  to  them  about  death,  as  if  she 
were  being  invited  to  some  garden  festival  in  May.  And  so 
it  never  occurred  to  them  to  think  that  they  could  be  slighting 
her  memory  by  indulging  in  their  games. 

"  So  they  played  on,  forgetting  how  late  it  was,  and  were  still 
in  the  midst  of  their  game  when  their  father  came  back  from 
the  funeral.  He  was  in  a  bitter  mood,  for  the  minister,  in 
his  sermon  at  the  grave,  had  plainly  said  that  the  dead  woman 
had  been  driven  into  her  lonely  and  almost  eerie  life  by  his 
coldness  and  reserve.  He  had  no  sooner  returned  home  than 
his  sister  told  him  where  the  children  were  and  what  they 
were  doing.  When  he  heard  this  he  cast  the  remnants  of  his 
self-restraint  to  the  winds,  and  all  sense  of  justice  forsook  him. 
In  his  blind  rage  the  thought  took  possession  of  him  that  these 
were  the  wretched  children  that  his  wretched  wife  had  brought 
him.     Unobserved,  he  approached  the  open  window  and  watched 


JORN     UHL  255 

them  awhile  at  their  play;  then  he  went  in  and  chastised  the 
terrified  boy  whom  he  recognized  as  the  leader,  and  then 
ioclced  the  three  of  them  up  in  the  chaff-room. 

"  Henceforth  he  kept  the  children  under  with  a  stern  hand. 
Rightly  thinking  that  they  must  not  be  left  so  much  together, 
he  made  the  girl  busy  herself  all  day  long,  under  her  aunt's 
direction,  with  household  tasks.  The  boy  had  to  plough,  and 
go  and  fetch  in  the  cows,  and  put  his  hand  to  any  work  that 
might  arise.  But  the  lad  soon  showed  that  he  hadn't  the 
slightest  natural  aptitude  for  such  affairs;  he  took  hold  of 
things  so  clumsily,  and  could  never  arrange  the  parts  of  his 
work  properly  together,  but  would  stand  there  helpless  till 
some  farm-laborer  showed  him,  with  a  grin,  how  easy  the 
thing  was.  Often  when  his  spirit  would  fain  have  opened 
itself  to  all  sorts  of  kindly  and  genial  impressions,  such  moments 
of  helplessness  and  clumsiness  would  come  and  bring  upon 
him  the  laughter  and  jeers  of  those  around  him,  and  his  soul, 
which  dwelt  in  a  house  so  clear  and  light  and  airy,  would, 
in  its  terror  and  dismay,  shut  all  the  doors  and  veil  the  win- 
dows and  sit  brooding  in  the  gloomy,  haunted  rooms.  Some- 
times on  quiet  Sunday  afternoons,  when  the  children  managed 
to  get  up  into  the  attic  together,  he  used  to  rummage  among 
all  the  frippery  there  and  take  the  gay  mantles  and  the  paper 
crowns,  which  make  folk  happier  and  are  therefore  truer  than 
many  a  one  of  gold,  and  the  red  shoes  with  their  tiny  bells,  and 
would  gaze  at  them  long  and  dreamily.  Then  he  would  lay 
them  away  again  in  their  places,  the  tears  running  down  his 
cheeks. 

"  That  spring-time  —  it  was  toward  the  middle  of  the  month 
of  April,  when  Spring  is  longing  to  break  forth,  but  cannot, 
because  of  the  cold  winds  that  hurl  themselves  upon  her  every 
night  and  thrust  her  hack  —  that  spring-rime,  I  say,  the  boy 
had  to  plough  all  day  long  in  a  big  sloping  field  that  lay 
at  some  distance  from  the  village.  On  the  lower  slope  lay  a 
stretch  of  land  in  which,  between  the  high  grass  and  all  sorts 
of  underwood,  a  number  of  deserted  marl-pits  lay,  full  of  deep 
water.  The  folk  thereabouts,  and  particularly  the  children, 
used  to  avoid  the  place,  for  it  was  held  to  be  eerie  —  and 
haunted  and  eerie  it  really  was.  The  waste  uneven  ground 
was  all  overgrown  with  wild,  rank  weeds,  and  these  steep-sided 
pits,  in  which,  far  below,  lay  the  still  unruffled  water,  aroused 


256  JORN    UHL 

in  people  the  mysterious  feeling  that  the  earth  had  here  great 
gaping  wounds  that  men  had  left  untended,  and  it  seemed  as 
if  in  those  dark  hollows  there  might  lurk  evil  gnomes,  waiting 
to  avenge  the  wrongs  of  their  mother-earth. 

"  For  three  whole  days  he  ploughed  there,  taking  his  dinner 
with  him  in  the  morning  and  returning  at  night.  Each 
evening  he  came  home  sad.  On  the  third  day  it  happened 
that  the  children  had  a  short  hour  that  they  could  spend 
together  in  the  attic,  and  there,  after  sitting  silent  for  a  long 
time,  he  told  his  two  playmates  how,  early  in  the  morning, 
before  the  sun  had  risen,  and  again  in  the  evening,  when  it 
had  sunk  behind  the  hill  and  the  mirk  was  gathering  over  the 
marl-pits,  he  had  heard  a  voice  that  seemed  to  come  from  a 
wild,  deserted  spot  there  —  it  might  be  the  voice  of  a  girl  or  a 
feeble  old  woman,  but  it  always  cried,  '  Come  here,  come  here!  ' 

"  He  had  got  up  on  hearing  it,  and  was  so  full  of  fear  that 
he  had  had  to  wipe  the  drops  of  sweat  from  his  brow,  but  all 
the  same  he  longed  to  go  toward  it.  Fear  and  love  had  drawn 
him  first  one  way  and  then  another.  When  he  had  told  them 
this,  he  rested  his  head  on  his  hand  and  looked  at  them. 

"  At  first  his  sister  shook  her  head  when  she  heard  the  story; 
then  a  tremor  ran  through  her,  as  if  one  of  the  monsters  out 
of  the  depths  of  the  marl-pits  had  been  making  a  clutch  at 
her,  and  for  awhile  she  looked  at  her  brother  with  scared  eyes. 
Then  she  suddenly  broke  into  a  loud  laugh,  and  declared  the 
whole  affair  to  be  nothing  but  a  pack  of  nonsense. 

"  For  since  her  mother's  death  a  great  change  had  taken 
place  in  her.  The  daily  tasks  which  she  had  now  to  do,  and 
which  brought  her  into  contact  with  all  sorts  of  people,  awoke 
and  strengthened  in  her  nature  everything  that  she  had  in- 
herited from  her  father.  What  had  terrified  and  darkened  the 
soul  of  her  brother,  who  was  of  a  more  delicate  and  unpractical 
nature,  she  approached,  as  girls  do,  tactfully  and  gracefully  and 
with  frank  curiosity.  Like  one  who  wakes  from  some  op- 
pressive dream  she  looked  into  the  real  life  around  her,  and 
it  filled  her  with  delight.  But  not  being  able  to  shake  of^  all 
at  once  the  influence  of  that  old  fantastic  w^orld,  she,  so  to  say, 
took  the  king's  mantle  and  the  red  shoes  with  the  bells  on 
them  with  her  into  her  new  life.  Into  it  she  went  reeling 
rather  than  walking,  still  half-drunk  with  sleep,  and  all  the 
more  so  because  she  had   inherited  a  considerable  part  of  her 


JoRN     UHL  257 

mother's  passionate  nature.  She  had  also  got  her  young  brown 
eyes  from  her,  that  were  always  full  of  a  soft,  limpid  brilliance. 
But  she  found  her  life's  happiness  for  all  that.  She  came  across 
a  young  man  belonging  to  the  village,  a  poor  tradesman's  son, 
who  had  come  back  home  during  his  convalescence,  after  having 
made  his  first  deep-sea  voyage  as  third  mate.  He  had  been 
taken  ill  while  abroad.  The  young  people  met  one  day  on  a 
lonely  path  through  the  fields,  and  had  exchanged  a  few  foolish 
words.  They  had  become  so  smitten  with  eacli  other,  that  all 
the  rest  of  the  world  was  hid  in  a  fog  as  far  as  they  were  con- 
cerned. And  so  she  couldn't  but  laugh,  now  that  she  was 
free  from  that  unreal  world  of  fantasy,  when  she  heard  her 
brother's  tale.  Soon  afterward  she  went  out  of  tiie  room, 
away  down  into  the  apple  orchard,  where  the  third  mate  was 
standing  waiting  behind  the  thick  sloe-bushes.  Their  other 
playfellow,  how  e\  er,  little  Wieten  Peiui,  listened  with  glowing 
cheeks  and  open  mouth  to  the  lad's  tale,  in  which  those 
mysterious  powers  that  had  hitherto  stood  mute  and  with 
closed  eyes,  far  off  in  the  mists,  now  for  the  first  time  called 
with  voice  and  glance.  And  ^Vieten  felt  so  fond  of  the  lad, 
too,  because  he  was  kind  and  clc\tM  and  had  such  strange, 
brilliant  eyes.  She  had  grieved  deeply  that  of  late  she  had  so 
seldom  been  able  to  speak  to  him,  and  one  night  she  had 
stood  at  his  bedroom  door,  wishing  to  talk  to  and  play  with 
him.  And  now,  unknown  to  herself,  she  was  glad  that  his 
sister  had  left  the  room  and  that  there  was  a  mysterious  some- 
thing in  common  between  them.  She  said  how  sorry  she  was 
that  he  looked  so  pale  and  sad,  and  began  shyly  to  stroke  his 
cheek,  and  at  last  she  kissed  him.  That  pleased  him  more 
than  anything.  For  although  there  had  been  so  much  talk 
about  kissing  in  the  pieces  they  had  played,  he  had  never 
really  known  what  it  was.  Now,  after  their  childish  fashion, 
they  tried  it  for  themselves,  first  this  way,  then  that,  to  see 
which  was  best,  and  grew  fervent  and  laughed  and  were  like 
angels  in  heaven.  And  this  trustful  child  would  almost  have 
kissed  him  into  health  again  with  her  young  rosy  lips,  but 
that  he  had  too  much  of  his  mother's  weakness  in  him.  He 
relapsed  into  his  fit  of  brooding  and  fear,  trembling  and  ask- 
ing, 'What  am  I  to  do?  Shall  I  go  if  it  calls  again?'  Then 
she  promised  him  that  she  would  run  across  the  next  morning 
from  the  cow-paddock  where  she  would  be  milking,  and   see 


258  JORN     UHL 

how  he  was  getting  on.  That  same  night  he  implored  his 
father  to  give  the  work  in  that  held  to  some  one  else,  but  did 
not  speak  of  the  cause  of  his  request.  The  father  saw  the 
boj^'s  fear,  but  determined  by  dint  of  austerity  to  force  him 
under  the  yoke  of  his  so-called  '  life's  work.'  The  boy's  re- 
quest, which  reminded  him  of  old  guilt,  was  refused  with  a 
contemptuous  shake  of  the  head. 

"  And  so  the  catastrophe  happened. 

"  It  was  a  cold,  raw,  gloomy  morning  in  spring.  Broad 
banks  of  fog  still  lay  like  monstrous  sluggish  animals,  dull 
and  inanimate,  in  the  hollows  of  the  fields,  and  yet  some  dim 
spirit  of  life  seemed  to  be  gently  stirring  over  the  land.  It 
seemed  as  if  multitudes  of  young  creatures,  bound  in  sleep, 
were  awaiting  some  whispered  word  of  the  Creator.  The 
west  wind  was  blowing  softly  and  evenly  in  from  the  sea,  like 
the  prelude  to  a  play  that  is  about  to  begin,  but  the  Night 
was  still  queen,  and  her  Terrors  still  held  sway,  —  princes 
greedy  to  do  the  deeds  of  darkness  before  the  sceptres  should 
drop  from  their  hands. 

"  Then  came  Wieten,  hastening  straight  across  the  fields 
toward  the  paddock  where  the  lad  was  at  work.  He  was  at 
that  moment  ploughing  down-hill,  and  so  did  not  notice  her. 
He  was  walking  with  feverish  steps  behind  the  horses.  His 
body  was  bent  forward  as  if  he  was  listening  to  something. 
Then  he  suddenly  shook  his  head  and  clenched  his  fists,  letting 
go  of  the  plough-handles.  She  thought  he  was  talking  to 
the  horses,  as  ploughmen  often  do,  and  came  nearer  and  nearer 
to  him.  But  all  at  once  he  raised  both  hands,  crying,  '  I'm 
coming,  I'm  coming!  '  and  with  a  few  bounds  he  reached  the 
underwood.  In  the  dim  light  she  saw  him  plunge  forward 
and  disappear.  Then  she  lost  consciousness  and  fell.  The 
sun  rose. 

"  An  hour  later  a  dairymaid  came  to  the  field  to  look  for 
her,  guessing  that  she  had  run  over  to  the  ploughman  and 
was  loitering  there  after  children's  fashion.  There  she  found 
the  team  of  horses  standing  motionless  without  a  driver,  and 
the  child  lay  face  downwards  in  a  fresh-turned  furrow,  not 
far  behind  the  plough.  She  was  restored  to  consciousness,  and, 
trembling  and  weeping,  told  them  what  she  had  seen.  After 
that  she  lay  for  many  days  tossing  in  fever.  Toward  noon 
they  found  the  lad  drowned  in  one  of  the  marl-pits." 


J  0  R  N     U  H  L  259 

Old  Whitehead  took  up  his  pipe,  and  held  out  his  hand 
toward  Thiess,  without  saying  a  word.  Thiess  understood 
and  struck  a  match  for  him. 

"  Why  make  a  long  story  of  it?  His  father  came  home 
late  that  evening  and  found  the  boy  lying  on  two  boards  in 
the  big  room.  He  bent  over  the  body  with  an  intent  look, 
then  gradually  straightened  himself  up  again.  On  the  day 
of  the  funeral,  when  his  neighlMtrs  would  fain  have  expressed 
their  sympathy,  he  said,  '  What's  the  good  ?  My  wife  and 
her  son  were  two  useless,  unpractical  people.  Down  there  in 
the  silence  and  stillness  of  the  grave  they're  in  their  proper 
place.' 

"  A  week  later  he  heard  about  his  daughter's  love-affair,  and 
in  short,  harsh  words  he  bade  her  give  her  lover  up.  She, 
however,  was  as  stubborn  as  he,  and  told  him  she  meant  to 
be  happier  than  her  poor  mother,  and  refused  to  break  with 
him.     So  he  drove  her  from  the  house. 

"  From  this  time  on  he  went  down-hill  fast.  For  eight 
weeks  of  wretchedness  Wieten  Penn,  an  inexperienced  child, 
was  in  the  house  alone  with  him.  He  neither  looked  at  her 
nor  deigned  to  speak  a  word  with  her.  At  first  he  was  nearly 
always  away  from  home,  trying  to  buy  and  deal  as  he  had 
done  of  old.  Hut,  as  he  sought  to  get  the  assent  of  those  he 
dealt  with  to  his  stern  and  gloomy  thoughts,  his  business  friends 
one  by  one  withdrew  from  him.  In  their  place  came  men 
of  shady  character,  forcing  themselves  on  him,  taking  pains 
to  agree  with  him,  and  leading  him  still  deeper  into  darkness 
and  defiance.  At  last  he  beheld  himself  enmeshed  by  evil  as 
by  a  serpent,  but  blood-guiltiness  and  obstinacy  prevented  him 
from  breaking  his  bonds.  As  it  became  clearer  to  him  that  his 
struggle  was  a  struggle  against  the  Eternal,  against  what  lies 
at  the  very  foundation  of  all  things,  and  that  this  struggle  being 
against  human  nature  must  be  vain,  he  conceived  a  horror  and 
disgust  of  himself  and  his  life.  The  poor  child  dwelt  four 
days  and  four  nights  more,  alone  with  him  in  that  house.  Full 
of  bitter  fear  and  foreboding,  she  saw  him  wandering  restlessly 
from  room  to  room,  and  heard  him  talking  desperately  to 
himself.     On  the  fifth  morning  she  found  him  dead. 

"  That,  Jorn,  is  the  story  of  Wieten  Penn's  girlhood,  the 
woman  who  is  now  sitting  at  your  father's  bedside.  She 
came  down  to  the  Marsh  and  took  service  here  at  the  Uhl. 


26o  JORN     UHL 

Owing  to  all  the  fearful  things  she  had  seen,  her  youth  was 
broken  oft  like  a  flower.  She  saw  apparitions  and  had  what 
people  called  second  sight,  and  became  distracted  and  gloomy. 
Silly  folk  gave  her  the  name  of  Wieten  Klook,  and  so  did 
what  they  could  to  drive  her  back  into  herself.  But  your 
mother,  Jcirn,  who  was  kind-hearted  and  trustful,  took  her 
by  the  hand  and  helped  her.  Yet  she's  always  remained 
strangely  serious,  and  is  often  pensive  and  dejected.  She's 
not  the  proper  sort  of  companion  for  a  man  like  you,  Jorn 
—  for  you  have  the  same  heavy  blood  in  you  as  she.  You  need 
a  good  young  helpmate,  especially  now  that  you've  got  a  difficult 
task  before  you." 

Having  ended  his  story,  Mr.  Whitehead  took  his  walking- 
stick  and  said  it  was  time  for  him  to  be  going.  He  had  the 
horses  put  into  the  buggy  and  drove  into  the  town  along  with 
Thiess  Thiessen.  Jorn  Uhl  went  to  his  father's  bedside  and 
released  Wieten  Penn.  As  she  left  the  room  he  cast  a  long 
look  at  her. 

He  spent  the  night  in  the  big  armchair  in  which  his  mother 
had  sat  on  winter  nights,  watching  by  his  father's  restless  bed. 
As  he  sat  there  pondering,  his  thoughts  wandered  away  in  two 
different  directions.  Now  he  considered  how  he  would  arrange 
this  or  that  on  the  farm,  and  wondered  what  the  future  would 
bring  forth ;  and  anon  he  was  in  the  midst  of  the  strange  and 
shocking  events  that  old  Whitehead  had  been  talking  about. 

And  gradually,  as  the  darkness  of  night  grew  deeper  and 
midnight  came,  he  heard  the  west  wind  soughing  and  rustling 
in  the  poplars  and  driving  the  rain  like  scourges  against  the 
window-panes,  and  saw  the  sick  man  gazing  with  vacant  eyes 
at  the  ceiling;  and  he  thought  of  the  doctor's  words,  "Your 
father  may  live  a  long  while  in  this  condition,  but  he  will 
never  regain  the  use  of  his  limbs."  Then  for  the  first  time 
there  came  into  Jorn  Uhl's  soul  the  feeling  of  the  insuflficiency 
of  mortals'  strength,  the  feeling  of  man's  need,  the  feeling, 
"  Whither  canst  thou  flee,  O  my  soul,  in  thy  great  distress 
and  loneliness?  "  And  now  it  was  a  good  thing  for  him,  after 
all,  that  he  had  once  heard  of  the  "  Father,  which  is  in  heaven," 
when  he  was  a  lad  at  school,  else  he  might  in  that  hour  have 
been  filled  with  fear  of  the  dark  towering  forms  which  stood 
scowling  around  him  in  the  night,  and  might  perchance  have 


JORN     UHL  261 

worshipped  them.  But  now,  in  his  hour  of  fear  and  faith, 
he  turned  to  those  unseen,  strong,  and  blessed  powers  which 
are  in  the  Gospel. 

And  that  was  a  inii^hty  step  for  this  Jorn  Uhl,  who  had 
hitherto  been  so  self-confident,  to  take.  For,  as  a  wise  nian 
has  rightly  said,  it  is  to  the  humble  alone  that  God's  grace 
is  given.  Only  to  those  who  seek  earnestly  and  ask  questions, 
many  and  serious  —  only  to  those  who  admire  and  wonder  and 
humbly  worship,  do  the  gates  open  that  lead  to  a  fair,  wide 
humanity.  To  the  heights  and  depths  of  human  life,  in  all 
their  wonder  and  beauty,  only  the  simple  and  ignorant  attain. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

On  no  other  farm  in  all  the  Marsh  was  such  hard  work  done 
as  at  the  Uhl  that  summer  and  autumn.  Every  morning 
at  four  o'clock,  when  the  watchman  made  his  last  round,  he 
would  stand  for  a  moment  on  the  so-called  Westereck,  and 
blow  the  three  prescribed  blasts  on  his  horn  in  the  direction 
of  the  Uhl,  and  wonder  to  see  lights  already  moving  in  the 
long  stables,  and  the  glow  of  flames  on  the  hearth  of  the  home- 
stead. 

Jorn  Uhl  ruled  with  an  iron  hand.  That  night,  to  be  sure, 
he  had  fallen  to  praying,  but  now  it  was  no  longer  prayer 
but  work  that  filled  his  thoughts  and  his  life.  His  nose  seemed 
to  have  taken  a  more  imperious  curve,  and  his  deep-set  eyes 
seemed  to  dart  still  sharper  glances  from  their  depths.  He 
grew  somewhat  taller  and  gaunter  and  austerer  in  his  ways. 
His  nickname  of  Provost,  that  had  been  forgotten  for  seven 
long  years,  now  came  up  again  on  the  farm.  Nor  did  all 
these  changes  come  about  without  offence  to  one  and  another, 
and  many  a  bitter  word.  Jock  Ebel,  known  in  the  village 
as  "  Hm  "  Ebel,  and  who  had  stood  for  thirty  years  and  more 
in  the  ditches  of  the  Uhl,  came  in  a  bad  temper  into  the 
servants'  room  one  evening  when  Jorn  Uhl  was  in  the  act 
of  paying  off  a  man  who  had  refused  to  do  the  task  set  to 
him.  "  It's  not  in  human  nature  to  stand  it,"  he  said,  "  it's 
not  in  human  nature  to  do  what  the  farmer  wants  of  us.  I've 
seen  a  good  deal  in  my  time,  I  can  tell  you.  In  the  year  'fifty 
I  was  blown  up  with  the  arsenal  at  Rendsburg,  but  I  came 
down  again  all  right  that  time  —  hm,  yes,  that  I  did." 

"Well,  and  what  are  you  driving  at?"  asked  Jorn  Uhl, 
feigning  surprise,  though  he  had  long  feared  that  it  would 
come  to  this. 

"If  the  master  ...  if  the  master  thinks  he's  going  to  grow 
rich  in  three  days,  why,  let  him,  I  say,  let  him.     But  I  don't 

262 


J  O  R  N     U  H  L  263 

see  as  how  that's  any  reason  why  I  should  work  the  skin  off 
my  fingers  fur  him,  all  the  same."  He  wiped  the  edge  of  his 
spade  and  went  ofi'.  Nor  did  he  put  in  an  appearance  next 
day,  but  sent  his  little  ten-year-old  daughter  over.  She  had 
an  idea  that  she  ought  to  speak  High  German  in  the  big 
stately  farm-hall  with  its  dim  solemn  light,  where  the  tones 
of  her  voice  sounded  so  grand  and  fine;  so  she  said,  "My 
father's  compliments,  and  he's  cleared  out,  and  isn't  coming 
back  again.  He's  gone  along  with  Krischau  Luhr  and  his 
bullocks  to  Husum."  And  with  that  she  squeezed  out  of  the 
door.  It  was  a  great  moment  in  the  life  of  this  poor  laboring 
man's  child,  to  be  able  to  say  such  big  words  in  that  great 
room  with  its  flags  of  black  and  white  marble,  and  its  high 
carved  chests  and  cupboards.  For  years  and  years  after  she 
could  hear  the  wonderful  tone  of  her  voice  as  those  walls  had 
echoed  it  back.  But  now  she  is  happily  married,  and  has  a 
good-tempered  husband,  and  might  well  venture  a  loud  word 
or  so  if  she  would.  Yet  she  always  speaks  in  a  humble  voice, 
as  if  she  still  feared  the  echo  of  the  words  she  had  used  that 
day  at  the  Uhl.  Her  husband  once  asked  her  where  she  got 
her  quiet  ways  and  her  soft  voice,  and  whether  it  had  aught 
to  do  with  that  day  at  the  Uhl.  She  pondered  a  little  before 
answering,  then  she  said,  "No;  I'll  tell  you  where  I  got  it. 
For  two  )'ears,  whilst  father  lay  sick,  I  had  to  go  begging. 
And  in  many  a  farmer's  hall  I  had  to  do  my  begging  in  humble 
enough  tones,  and  that's  how  it  is."  As  she  had  said  that,  she 
threw  herself  into  her  husband's  arms  and  laughed. 

The  two  ploughmen  at  the  Uhl  resisted  Jorn's  efforts  to  spur 
them  on  with  a  pertinacity  equal  to  his  own,  and  many  a  harsh 
word  fell  between  them. 

"  When  you've  filled  in  the  forenoon  up  till  tw^elve  o'clock 
with  a  little  ploughing,  you  reckon  you've  earned  your  dinners, 
I  expect? " 

Then  the  elder  of  the  two  spoke  up:  "  And  if  you  had  your 
w^ay,  sir,  we'd  have  worked  ourselves  to  death  before  twelve 
o'clock  every  day,  and  wouldn't  want  any  dinner  at  all." 

At  this  the  boy,  who  was  seated  on  the  back  of  the  near 
horse,  could  not  help  laughing.  But  the  tall  farmer,  with 
two  long,  quiet  strides,  came  up  to  him  and  gave  him  a  slap 
that  left  his  ear   red   for   the   rest  of  the   day.     Directly  the 


264  JORN     UHL 

Provost  was  out  of  the  way,  however,  he  laughed  again,  with 
his  roguish  e}es  full  of  tears. 

It  seemed  as  if  things  would  not  go  well  in  the  kitchen, 
either.  Almost  all  day  long  Wieten  had  to  be  at  the  sick 
man's  bed,  for  he  would  grow  restless  and  cry  like  a  child 
when  she  was  absent.  And  then  the  maids  in  the  kitchen 
did  not  care  about  carrying  out  Lena  Tarn's  orders.  Jorn 
talked  the  matter  over  with  Wieten,  and  they  both  agreed 
that  it  was  better  for  Wieten  herself  to  give  up  all  her  time  to 
nursing  the  old  man,  and  while  sitting  at  his  bedside  she  could 
go  on  with  her  knitting  and  mending  and  sewing,  as  usual. 
The  kitchen  and  dairy,  on  the  other  hand,  were  to  be  under 
Lena  Tarn's  control,  but  in  important  matters  she  could  come 
in  and  consult  Wieten. 

"  Yes,  that's  a  good  arrangement,  Jorn.  It'll  be  a  comfort 
for  me,  too,  to  have  that  load  oti  my  shoulders.  I'm  sixty 
now." 

So  Jorn,  with  a  stern,  proud  look  on  his  face,  and  with  de- 
termined lips,  went  into  the  kitchen,  and,  in  a  few  words, 
made  things  clear  to  the  assembled  petticoats.  Lena  Tarn, 
who  was  standing  washing  up  the  dishes,  with  her  sleeves 
rolled  up  showing  her  white  arms,  gave  a  short  nod  of  assent 
with  her  fair  head,  without  stopping  in  her  work,  not  so 
much  as  looking  around  at  this  most  deliberate  speaker.  The 
second  servant,  however,  shot  out  of  the  kitchen  like  an  arrow, 
slammed  the  door  after  her,  and  left  the  farm  that  same  after- 
noon. 

Winter  drew  on  apace.  Jorn  Uhl,  with  his  long  legs  and 
heavy  stride,  went  about  his  fields  thinking  over  a  plan  he 
had  of  draining  part  of  the  farm-lands,  and  of  carrying  out  the 
work  himself  in  order  to  save  wages  yearly.  He  measured 
it  off,  like  a  certificated  surveyor,  and  took  the  grades,  and  sat 
in  his  room  drawing  up  a  plan  of  the  whole  farm,  which  now 
belonged  to  him. 

Spring  came.  May-day  brought  new  people  to  the  farm 
who  knew  nothing  of  the  young  farmer's  sudden  rise  in  the 
world,  or  of  Lena  Tarn's  promotion.  From  that  time  forth 
things  went  better.  Jorn's  voice  rang  surer  and  fuller  across 
the  farmyard,  and  he  was  able  to  go  to  Wieten  Penn,  who 
sat  at  the  window  looking  out  over  her  spectacles  at  the  farm, 
and  say  to  her,  "  That  Lena  is  making  a  fine  job  of  It.    There's 


JORN     UHL  265 

go  and  gumption  in  her.     You  can  be  quite  easy  about  the  way 
she's  managing." 

Then  came  the  tenth  of  May.  The  clear  sun  hung  white 
in  the  blue  depths  of  the  sky,  and  the  vapors  mounting  from 
tlie  earth  were  pierced  and  transfigured  with  his  light.  Away 
in  the  distance,  along  the  North  Sea  dikes,  the  mist  lay  bluish 
white.  Old  Dre.Ner  passed  by  the  farm  that  day,  striking  his 
walking-stick  firmly  and  cautiously  on  the  ground  at  every 
step.  "  Jorn,"  he  said,  "  this  is  the  one  and  twentieth  time 
that  I  have  brought  my  cattle  out  to  the  pastures  on  the  tenth 
of  May."  Jorn  waited  till  the  old  man  had  vanished  in  the 
distance,  then  he  shouted  into  the  big  hall  so  that  it  rang 
again:  "Come,  let  us  drive  the  cattle  out,  and  you  women- 
folk can  help,  too."  And  thereupon  forty  oxen,  two  and  three 
year  olds,  strong  beasts,  were  led,  one  after  another,  to  the 
door,  and  let  loose.  They  took  the  great  farmyard  by  storm, 
and  filled  it  as  children  do  a  playground  with  a  shuffle  of 
feet  and  the  sound  of  their  cries.  With  five  men  they  managed 
to  master  them.  Mighty  was  the  sound  of  Jorn  Uhl's  voice, 
and  mighty  were  the  cracks  of  his  great  stock-whip.  He  stood 
at  the  top  of  the  rise,  in  front  of  the  big  barn-door,  and  pointed 
out  the  way.  At  last  they  \\ere  all  got  out  of  the  yard,  and 
brought  to  the  dike  road.  Two  of  the  men  went  with  them. 
It  was  a  relief  to  ever)-  one. 

The  ten  horses  which  were  then  let  out  were  led  away  by 
the  head  man  and  one  of  the  youngsters.  Two  foals  trotted 
prettily  behind,  and  the  cavalcade  was  brought  up  by  the  old 
mare  that  had  come  from  the  Haze  with  Jorn's  mother  as  a 
kind  of  supplement  to  her  dowry,  for  a  mare  had  been  promised 
to  the  daughter  of  Haze  Farm.  This  mare  was  permitted  to 
finish  its  days  in  peace  at  the  Uhl. 

Then  came  the  cows,  eight  in  number;  big,  red,  speckled 
marsh  cows.  Just  behind  the  house,  in  an  old  meadow  that 
had  never  seen  the  gleam  of  a  ploughshare,  they  had  their 
pasture,  so  that  they  might  be  handier  for  the  milkmaids.  The 
women  led  them.  A  ploughboy  who  tried  to  catch  one  of 
them,  although  he  went  about  it  craftily  enough,  was  treated 
with  scant  ceremony.  The  rope  was  torn  from  his  hands,  and 
he  got  full  proof  that  he  was  but  a  clumsy  fellow.  And  in 
this  fashion  the  milkmaids,  with  Lena  Tarn  in  front  in  all  her 
stateliness,   went  down   the   Wurt.     The  sunlight,   finding  its 


266  JORN     UHL 

way  through  the  branches  of  the  poplars,  set  her  hair  all  afire, 
till  it  gleamed  like  the  coat  of  the  red  cow  walking  on  in  front 
of  her. 

But  an  interruption  occurred.  The  big  three-year-old  bull 
had  managed  to  break  loose,  for  he  had  found  the  fast-emptying 
stable  too  monotonous  for  his  taste.  He  suddenly  appeared 
standing  at  the  stable  door,  and  came  sauntering  calmly  over 
toward  the  women  and  cows.  It  was  a  fortunate  thing  that 
Lena  Tarn,  who  thought  of  everything,  had  brought  the  three- 
legged  milking-stool  with  her.  She  confronted  him  with  blaz- 
ing eyes,  and  cried,  "  Stop,  you  good-for-nothing!  "  for  she  was 
no  friend  of  his,  and  threatened  him  with  the  stool.  But  the 
bull  took  not  the  slightest  heed,  but  came  on,  looking  the 
picture  of  assurance,  strength,  and  defiance.  Lena  Tarn  threw 
a  quick  look,  full  of  biting  scorn,  at  the  men-folk  who  were 
standing,  whip  in  hand,  higher  up  near  the  barn  door.  "  Why 
are  you  standing  there,  you  butter-fingers?"  she  cried;  and, 
raising  the  stool,  she  brought  it  down  with  a  crash  on  the 
bull's  head.  This  gave  him  such  a  start  that  he  made  off  in 
the  other  direction,  where  he  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  men. 
All  that  afternoon  Lena  Tarn's  cheeks  would  redden  and  pale 
alternately  at  the  thought  of  the  glance  the  young  farmer  had 
cast  at  her,  and  she  was  full  of  a  secret  joy,  mixed  in  some 
strange  way  with  fear. 

Last  of  all  came  the  calves,  more  than  twenty  of  them. 
They  behaved  worse  than  so  many  school-children,  and  that 
is  saying  a  good  deal.  Six  of  them  that  had  been  born  in 
the  stable  and  didn't  know  what  water  was,  or  earth,  or  air, 
tried  first  of  all  to  fly,  springing  high  with  all  four  legs  in  the 
air  at  once,  and  then  stood  stiff-legged  and  riveted  to  the  spot 
with  astonishment  that  they  should  come  down  to  earth  again. 
They  could  not  get  over  their  amazement,  and  could  not  be 
persuaded  to  budge.  Presently  two  of  them  discovered  the  big 
ditch  and  sprang  into  it  with  a  mighty  leap.  The  youngster 
who  had  hold  of  their  rope  got  no  time  to  reflect  whether  it 
would  be  better  for  him  to  throw  in  his  lot  with  theirs,  or 
whether  it  was  wisest  to  part  company.  So  he  had  to  jump 
with  them.  And  there  stood  the  three  of  them  up  to  their 
necks  in  the  dark  water,  all  three  overwhelmed  with  astonish- 
ment, gazing  helplessly  at  each  other. 

Then  the  farmer  got  angry.     He  scolded  "  that  young  block- 


JORN     UHL  267 

head,"  as  he  called  him,  who  didn't  know  how  to  blow  a  cow- 
horn  yet,  laid  his  whip  down  near  the  wall,  and  came  striding 
down  from  his  eminence  and  went  in  among  the  men  and 
cattle.  It  was  high  time,  too,  to  put  a  stop  to  the  hubbub, 
for  the  girls  were  standing  by  the  stable  door  screaming  with 
laughter,  and  Lena  Tarn  stood  by  the  hedge-gate  with  a 
contemptuous  look  and  a  frown  on  her  face.  Half-way  down 
the  slope  he  caught  hold  of  the  halter  of  the  chief  offender, 
who  had  not  yet  recovered  from  his  astonishment  and  was 
staring  stupidly  around  him,  and  tried  to  lead  him  away.  But 
just  at  this  very  moment  a  thought  occurred  to  the  beast,  some 
inspiration  or  other,  and  he  went  helter-skelter  down  the  steep 
Wurt.  Away  went  Jorn's  cap.  The  earth  trembled.  The 
kitchen  wenches  shrieked.  There  was  a  bold  leap  and  a  great 
splash,  and  there  stood  the  whole  five  of  them  in  the  water, 
all  five  wondering  what  was  the  matter.  ...  At  last  every- 
thing was  got  into  order,  "  because  we  lent  a  helping  hand," 
the  girls  declared,  and  at  last  silence  again  reigned  on  the 
farm. 

Lena  Tarn  went  back  to  the  kitchen.  The  look  on  Jorn 
Uhl's  face  as  he  saw  her  brandishing  the  stool  at  the  bull 
haunted  her.  Generally  she  was  merry  enough,  but  in  the 
last  few  days  she  had  been  somewhat  unwell,  and  this  had 
made  her  rather  ill-tempered.  Her  face  now  wore  a  slight 
frown,  and  she  even  strove  to  look  as  sour  as  she  could.  But 
as  soon  as  she  began  to  go  about  her  work  and  felt  that 
new,  fresh  health  was  streaming  through  her  limbs,  her  face 
completely  changed.  She  went  hastily  to  her  room,  unlocked 
her  door,  and  presently  came  back.  Her  eyes  w'ere  bright 
and  half-shut,  blinking  roguishly  in  the  sunlight.  She  smiled 
thoughtfully  to  herself,  and  suddenly  when  she  thought  of  the 
young  farmer's  plunge  in  the  water  she  burst  out  laughing 
and  began  to  sing. 

Neither  did  Jorn  Uhl  quite  recover  his  peace  of  mind  that 
day.  His  sharp  plunge  into  the  water  had  roused  his  blood, 
and  the  spring  sunshine  did  its  share  too.  It  blew  the 
strength  of  youth  into  men,  and  forced  them  to  breathe  deep, 
and  look  into  the  gay  world ;  to  lay  their  heads  back  and 
try  to  find  the  lark,  singing  its  heart  out  somewhere  high  up 
in  the  sky.  He  had  a  feeling  that  it  was  a  sort  of  holiday, 
and  he  thought  he  might  keep  it  by  going  into  the  village  to 


268  JORN     UHL 

pay  the  taxes  that  were  due.  So  he  put  on  his  Sunday  coat 
and  walked  slowly  across  toward  the  village,  looking  at  the 
lusty  young  wheat  and  thinking  of  Lena  Tarn  the  while. 
"  Her  hair  is  piled  up  on  her  head  like  a  helmet  of  red  brass 
that's  slipped  down  on  to  her  neck,  just  like  the  one  that 
French  cuirassier  had  on  the  back  of  his  head.  I  remember 
how  he  sat  there  on  a  tree-stvmip  with  a  hayband  bound 
arounil  his  thigh,  that  evening  at  Gravelotte.  When  she's 
'  busy,'  as  she  says,  she  just  keeps  her  eyes  fixed  on  her 
work  and  hasn't  a  look  for  anything  else,  but  if  you  begin  to 
talk  to  her,  or  if  she's  talking  to  any  one,  her  laughter  comes 
bubbling  out  like  a  spring.  She  seems  to  think  that  one 
ought  never  to  be  grave  and  serious  except  when  one's  work- 
ing. '  It's  the  natural  way  of  things,'  she  says.  There's  no 
betwixt  and  between  with  her.  She'll  either  be  downright 
angry  about  a  thing  or  downright  good-tempered.  Mostly 
the  last,  though ;  except  to  me,  that  is ;  for  she's  often  pretty 
short  with  me,  and  often  as  not  real  snappy.  It  was  a  great 
joke  for  her  to  see  me  careering  into  the  water  with  that 
mad  brute  of  a  bull.  If  only  she  dared,  she'd  like  mightily 
to  remind  me  of  it  three  or  four  times  a  day,  out  of  sheer 
devilment." 

As  he  went  along  with  such  thoughts  running  through  his 
head,  he  met  old  Dreyer.  Old  Dreyer  was  a  man  w'ho  would 
never  walk  along  the  broad  street  that  ran  through  the  middle 
of  the  village,  but  always  preferred  the  paths  where  he  had 
green  grass  under  his  feet  and  could  have  ploughed  land  on 
both  sides  before  his  old  eyes.  The  young  farmer  slowed 
down,  so  as  to  let  the  old  man  wn"th  his  sober  gait  walk  along 
beside  him,  and  listened,  as  he  had  so  often  done,  to  his  scraps 
of  wisdom  and  good  advice,  which  were  always  clenched  by 
an  appeal  to  things  that  had  happened  in  their  own  times  or, 
often  enough,  in  the  lives  of  their  fathers  before  them. 

"  And  above  all  things,  Jorn,  —  how  old  are  you?  Twenty- 
four?  Don't  go  marrying,  Jorn!  Not  under  no  circum- 
stances whatever.  That  would  be  just  the  foolishest  thing 
you  could  possibly  do  at  present.  Every  time  of  life  has  its 
follies,  Jorn,  and  yours  would  be  marrying.  For  my  own 
part,  I  waited  till  I  was  in  the  thirties,  and  then  I  made  a 
careful  choice.  She  brought  six  thousand  marks  with  her, 
Jorn,  and  that  was  a  deal   in  those  days.     You  daren't  do  it 


JORN     UHL  269 

under  fifty  thousand,  Jurn.  Give  yourself  plenty  of  time, 
lad,  that's  my  advice  to  you." 

"  Of  course.  I'll  do  well  to  wait  at  least  another  ten  years," 
said  Jorn ;  "that  goes  without  saying.  Wictcn's  hale  and 
hearty  yet,  and  can  look  after  things  for  many  a  day  to  come." 

At  the  bend  of  the  road  he  bade  the  old  man  good  day 
and  hurried  on,  thinking  to  himself,  "  The  old  chap's  not  so 
clear-headed  as  he  used  to  be,  not  the  slightest  doubt  about 
it.  I  noticed  it  to-day  more  than  usual.  Beautiful  mild  air 
it  is  to-day.  It's  pleasanter  to  walk  by  oneself,  by  a  long 
chalk,  and  let  one's  thoughts  go  helter-skelter  where  they  will, 
just  like  the  calves  did  this  morning,  than  to  tramp  along  with 
old  Dreyer  listening  to  his  words  of  wisdom.  Hy  this  time 
I  ought  to  know^  pretty  well  what's  the  sensible  thing  to  do. 
I  haven't  frittered  away  my  time  without  getting  a  single 
thought  into  my  head  like  those  brothers  of  mine.  As  for 
marrying,  that  is,  just  at  present,  I  mean,  just  catch  me  at  it. 
Time  enough  after  I'm  thirty."  He  took  oft  his  coat  and  hung 
it  over  his  arm,  and  his  white  shirt-sleeves  shone  like  those 
of  the  good  son  in  the  parable  when  he  was  returning  home 
from  the  fields  and  heard  the  singing  and  dancing.^ 

"  She  looked  fine  when  she  let  the  red  bull  have  the  stool  at 
his  head.  Like  a  three-year-old  horse  when  it  rears.  She 
didn't  look  so  nice  yesterday,  though,  and  her  eyes  weren't 
so  bright.  She  spoke  crossly  to  AVieten,  and  then  said  to  her 
afterward,  '  Don't  be  annoyed,  Wieten,  I've  not  slept  well,' 
and  laughed.  Queer  creatures  they  are!  Not  slept  well? 
When  a  body  has  buzzed  about  the  whole  day,  as  she  has  to 
do,  she  ought  to  sleep  like  a  log.  But  I  suppose  it's  got  some- 
thing to  do  with  Alaytime.  I  can  only  say  it's  a  good  thing 
that  the  men-folk  keep  reasonable,  else  the  world  would  get 
clean  out  of  joint  cverj'  spring-time. 

"Wonderful  air!  It  seems  as  if  one  was  drinking  it,  and 
it  tastes  good,  too.  It's  a  good  thing  after  all  that  I  came 
home  safe  from  the  war,  and  that  I'm  still  young  and  have  the 
big  farm,  so  as  to  show  them  what's  in  me.  And  later  on,  when 
I've  got  a  firm  seat  in  the  saddle,  I'll  choose  a  bonnic  wife 
for  myself,  with  plenty  of  money  and  yellow  hair.  Inhere  are 
rich  girls,  too,  that  are  just  as  lively  and  fresh,  and  look  just 
as  taking  and  stately.     New  girls  are  always  shooting  up  every 

1  Vide  St.  Luke  xv.  25.     (Translator's  Note.) 


270  JORN     UHL 

year  as  thick  as  j'oung  grass.  Heaven  alone  knows  where  they 
all  come  from.  There's  no  need  for  it  to  be  this  particular 
one. 

He  put  on  his  coat  again  and  entered  the  long  lane  of  lindens 
that  ran  through  the  village.  The  parish  clerk,  who  was  so 
hard  of  hearing,  was  standing  there  before  his  door,  not  in 
tlie  best  of  moods.  For  in  the  course  of  the  day  there  had 
been  no  fewer  than  six  births  registered,  and  each  father  had 
sat  a  full  hour  in  the  comfortable  easy-chair,  and  discussed 
the  state  of  things  in  the  village  and  in  the  world  in  general, 
his  neighbors  and  the  schoolmaster,  and  had  wound  up  with 
a  long  account  of  his  own  doings.  And  all  the  while  the 
parish  clerk  had  sat  there  thinking,  "  There's  something  better 
you  could  be  doing  than  everlastingly  bringing  new  children 
into  the  world,  giving  me  so  much  trouble  every  year  with 
all  this  scribbling  on  your  account.  Man!  you  ought  to  just 
go  away  and  mind  your  ploughing,  I  tell  you." 

"  Uhl,"  he  said,  "  one  would  have  thought  that  the  war 
would  have  caused  a  falling  off,  but,  bless  me,  not  a  bit  of  it! 
Just  the  opposite.  Four  men  of  our  parish  fell  in  France, 
but  what  difference  does  that  make?  Why,  there's  six  christen- 
ings for  to-day  alone.  And  at  Jen  Tappe's,  who  got  his  arm 
shot  of¥  at  Le  Mans,  there's  something  on  the  way  again 
already.  We  won't  have  more  than  fifty  deaths  this  year, 
Jorn,  but  over  a  hundred  births.  Where's  the  food  to  come 
from?  Can  you  tell  me  that?  The  country  doesn't  grow 
any  bigger,  and  every  cow  needs  six  bushels.  The  public's 
growing  too  fast,  Jorn,  far  too  fast!  But,  bless  me!  come 
inside,  man."  So  he  chatted  on,  and  with  blinking  eyes  counted 
over  the  gold  pieces  that  Jorn  laid  on  the  table,  turning  each 
piece  over  twice,  and  then  he  entered  the  sum  carefully  in  the 
accounts. 

Jorn  Uhl,  as  a  rational  being,  as  a  taxpayer,  and  as  the 
holder  of  a  large  farm,  thought  these  views  perfectly  correct, 
and  talked  the  whole  matter  over  with  the  parish  clerk.  "  What 
the  deuce  is  to  be  the  end  of  it  if  people  go  on  increasing 
at  that  rate?"  And  finally  he  said,  emphatically,  "  Marrying 
under  twenty-five  will  simply  have  to  be  forbidden."  And 
with  these  words  he  departed,  full  of  the  proud  consciousness 
that  he  was  of  the  same  mind  as  so  sensible  and  experienced 
a  man  as  a  parish  clerk  in  a  matter  of  such  great  importance. 


JORN     UHL  271 

And  again  as  he  went  along  the  path  through  the  meadows  you 
could  see  his  shirt-sleeves  gleaming  in  the  distance. 

As  he  turned  into  the  farmyard  he  noticed  a  man  sitting 
on  the  white  wooden  bench  between  the  lindens.  He  looked 
like  a  laborer  wearing  his  best  Sunday  coat.  He  must  have 
been  quite  sixty  years  of  age,  and  he  had  a  full,  gray  beard, 
and  thick  gray  hair  that  lay  heavy  over  his  forehead,  and  in 
spite  of  his  broad,  good-humored  features  he  looked  like  a  lion 
with  a  gray  mane.  He  had  rested  both  hands  on  the  top  of 
his  oaken  staff,  and  was  weary  and  travel-stained.  Lena  Tarn 
was  standing  beside  him  with  a  strangely  earnest  face;  she 
pointed  to  Jorn,  saying,  "  Here  comes  the  master." 

The  old  man  stood  up  before  him  and  shook  hands  with 
him.  Then  he  sat  down  and  began  —  after  the  fashion  of 
people  in  those  parts  —  to  talk  about  the  weather  and  the 
crops.  Lena  Tarn  brought  out  the  coffee  without  a  word, 
then  sat  down  opposite  them  and  set  to  work  to  mend  a  cloak 
that  Jorn  had  brought  with  him  from  the  war,  and  that  had 
belonged  to  a  French  soldier. 

"  I  have  come  about  a  certain  matter,  ..."  the  old  man 
said.  "  My  wife  gives  me  no  peace.  You  used  to  be  in 
Captain  Gleiser's  field  artillery,  usedn't  you?  Well,  Geert 
Dose  was  there,  too.  He  worked  for  you  after  he'd  served 
his  time  as  a  soldier,  I've  heard.  Well,  you  see,  he  was  my 
son.  .  .  ." 

"  He  was  one  of  the  first  to  be  wounded." 

"  Well,  his  mother  won't  give  me  any  peace.  Every  evening 
she  wants  to  know  whereabouts  his  wound  was,  and  whether 
it's  a  bad  thing — I  mean,  whether  he  had  to  suffer  long  after 
he  had  got  it.  She  fancies  about  nine  days.  He  was  a  strong, 
healthy  young  fellow,  and  it  must  have  been  hard  enough  on 
him.  And  she'd  like  to  know  whether  he  said  anything  at  the 
last." 

"  Yes.  .  .  ." 

The  old  man  seemed  to  have  grown  a  little  smaller,  and  was 
looking  with  fixed,  mute  gaze  over  his  hands  into  the  sand. 

"  I  want  you  to  tell  me  how  it  all  really  happened.  They 
say  you  were  with  him  at  the  last.  Then  I  can  tell  her  after- 
ward as  much  as  I  think  she  can  bear." 

Jorn  told  him  quietly  all  about  Geert  Dose's  wound  and  his 
longing  to  be  home  again,  and  his  death,  keeping  nothing  back. 


272  JORN     UHL 

Lena  Tarn  had  never  in  her  life  seen  or  heard  anything 
but  such  things  as  happened  in  her  own  little  village,  nor  had 
she  ever  troubled  herself  about  things  beyond  its  borders. 
The  word  "  war  "  had  always  summoned  up  before  her  a  great 
fiery,  kaleidoscopic  picture,  with  bright,  round  clouds  up  above 
and  burning  houses  down  below,  and  between  them  hosts  of 
men  running  and  riding  —  the  general  with  his  breast  covered 
with  orders,  the  soldiers  with  their  hurrahs  and  waving  of 
helmets,  their  bivouac-fires  and  Te  Deums.  All  that  she  had 
read  in  her  school-books.  Of  the  gruesome  and  heartrending 
misery  that  soldiers  have  to  go  through  she  had  heard  nothing. 
She  listened  to  Jorn's  words  with  face  all  drawn  with  pain 
at  the  very  recital  of  such  woes.  But  in  the  depths  of  her 
soul  a  secret  joy  was  all  the  while  dancing  and  laughing,  and 
she  kept  saying  to  herself,  "  You've  come  back  safe  and  sound. 
You've  come  back  safe  and  sound,  Jorn  Uhl." 

The  old  man  did  not  say  much  more.  He  soon  got  up 
and  went  silently  on  his  way.  The  farmer  accompanied  him 
to  the  end  of  the  lane,  the  first  and  last  time  that  he  was  ever 
known  to  do  any  one  this  honor.  For  a  long  time  he  stood 
looking  after  the  retreating  figure  plodding  along  the  high- 
road with  stiff  and  heavy  gait.  "  The  old  fellow  has  a  long 
walk  of  sixteen  miles  before  him,  a  weary  road,  and  a  weary 
home-coming,"  thought  Jorn  Uhl. 

Returning  through  the  poplar  lane,  the  pleasantness  of  the 
Maytime  again  came  over  his  spirit.  Through  the  gently 
swaying  trees,  now  all  in  tender  leaf,  he  caught  glimpses  of 
the  sunlit  space  in  front  of  the  long,  quiet  homestead.  He  saw 
its  long,  lofty  roof  of  dark  gray  thatch,  and  its  windows 
glimmering  in  their  green  frames.  He  saw  the  broad,  spread- 
ing vine  clambering  around  the  door,  the  white  deal  seats  and 
little  table  beneath  the  trellis,  and  Lena  Tarn  sitting  there 
with  her  proud,  saucy  air  and  all  the  perfume  of  her  fresh, 
full  youth  about  her. 

As  he  looked,  a  phrase  occurred  to  him  that  he  had  read  in 
some  stray  newspaper  once  when  he  was  a  soldier  away  in 
France  on  actual  service,  a  flowery  Christmas  article  about 
Peace,  and  the  Works  of  Peace.  This  expression  had  pleased 
him  hugely  at  the  time,  and  the  beautiful  picture  of  a  land  at 
rest  now  recurred  to  him.  In  his  clumsy  fashion  he  turned 
the  phrase  into  question  and  answer  after  the  manner  of  the 


JoRN     UHL  273 

catechism:  "What  are  the  works  of  peace?  —  The  works  of 
peace  are  ploughing,  sowing,  reaping,  the  building  of  houses, 
marrying,  and  the  rearing  of  children." 

Lena  sat  there  with  head  bowed  so  low  that  she  did  not 
look  like  the  same  girl.  The  May  sunlight  was  laughing  and 
pointing  its  radiant  fingers  at  her  bowed  head.  "  Look  you, 
Jorn  Uhl,  look  how  it  sparkles.  Hut  have  a  care  lest  you 
touch  it,  it's  all  quick  with  hre."  The  air  lay  soft  the  while, 
smiling  and  will-less  in  the  arms  of  the  JVIay-day  sunlight,  as 
though  faint  with  its  own  ecstasy.  As  Jorn  tried  to  pass  her, 
Lena  Tarn,  without  looking  up,  pointed  to  a  little  blue  note- 
book that  lay  near  her  on  the  table,  and  said,  in  a  snappish 
voice,  "  I  just  want  you  to  go  through  the  butter  accounts 
with  me." 

Now,  going  through  the  accounts  with  him  was  a  thing  she 
always  did  with  ill  grace,  for  it  seemed  to  her  to  imply  a 
certain  distrust.  It  had  to  be  done,  though.  She  gave  the 
note-book  another  contemptuous  push  and  straightened  herself 
a  little.  Jorn  sat  down  by  her  side  and  began  to  go  over  the 
items,  one  by  one.  To  show  her  dislike  for  such  interference, 
she  had  written  them  so  badly  that  he  could  not  make  head 
or  tail  of  some  of  them.  She  had  to  bend  her  ruddy  head 
over  the  book  that  he  held  in  his  hand.  Jorn  was  suddenly 
conscious  of  a  telltale  light  in  his  eyes,  and  tried  to  frown  down 
these  flighty  fires.  Then  with  great  care  and  precision  he 
began  casting  up  the  figures  to  see  whether  Lena  Tarn's  total 
were  correct  or  not.  She  meanwhile  was  busily  engaged  in 
fitting  a  patch  into  the  old  cloak,  cocking  her  head  first  on  this 
side,  then  on  that,  to  observe  the  aesthetic  effect  of  her  handi- 
work, and  singing  and  humming  like  a  bumblebee  when  per- 
chance it  alights  on  the  rim  of  a  buttercup,  and  to  its  amaze- 
ment and  indignation  finds  another  already  in  possession.  Before 
very  long  he  found  himself  listening  attentively  to  her  singing, 
and  his  figures  began  to  dance  and  get  all  mixed  up  together. 
Then  he  grew  angry  with  hiinself  and  got  up.  "  I'll  go  and 
finish  the  sum  inside,"  he  said. 

"  It's  the  best  thing  you  can  do,"  said  she. 

In  the  evening,  as  twilight  was  falling,  he  sauntered  along 
the  cross-road  to  see  whether  the  cattle  that  had  been  let  out 
into  the  open  were  all  right.  In  former  years  he  could  stand 
by  the  hour  behind   his  beasts,   thinking  over  their  past,   and 


274  JORN     UHL 

planning  for  their  future,  but  this  evening  he  had  no  eyes  for 
them,  and  soon  turned  back  home  again.  W^lien  lie  had  reached 
the  farmyard  he  looked  around  him,  and,  seeing  nobody,  he 
laughed  softly  to  himself.  Late  that  evening  it  began  to  rain. 
He  was  sitting  in  his  little  room  at  the  open  window  smoking 
his  pipe,  and  feeling  —  as  he  mostly  did  at  this  time,  when  sit 
ting  there  beside  the  big  chest  in  this  little  kingdom  of  his  — 
thoroughly  comfortable.  In  such  hours  a  longing  for  the  more 
genial  side  of  life  awoke  in  him.  It  was  a  thing  he  must  have 
inherited  from  his  mother's  side  of  the  family.  As  a  rule, 
when  evening  came,  he  would  sit  there  in  the  quiet  conscious- 
ness of  a  day's  work  well  done,  pondering  and  making  plans 
for  the  future,  portioning  his  life  out  in  thought,  as  a  child 
does  some  big  Christmas  cake  that  seems  to  it  so  big  that  it 
can  never  come  to  an  end.  But  to-night  Jorn  began  to  brood 
and  philosophize  again  after  his  old  fashion,  thinking  how  few 
sunshiny  days  had  been  his,  and  wondering  whether  things 
might  not  be  so  ordered  that  he  might  some  day  get  out  of 
this  land  of  gloom  and  cold  winds  for  awhile.  What  had  his 
life  been  hitherto?  he  asked  himself.  He  had  left  behind  the 
cares  of  his  boyhood  only  to  be  loaded  with  debt  as  a  man. 
He  had  escaped  the  field  of  Gravelotte  only  to  come  to  new- 
tilled  land,  where  it  was  heavy  walking.  And  it  was  the  same 
with  everything  else.  So  when  he  came  to  think  things  over, 
it  seemed  to  him  that  it  was  high  time  for  him  to  expect  to 
have  a  little  of  the  softer,  milder,  and  more  genial  side  of  life^ 
too. 

In  the  house  not  a  soul  was  stirring.  Outside  the  rain  was 
trickling  and  gossiping.  A  soft  twitter  of  birds  came  from 
among  the  apple-trees.  Amongst  the  bushes  there  was  a  feel- 
ing as  of  buds  longing  to  break  forth  into  leaf  and  blossom. 
Heavy  globules  of  rain  were  hanging  on  every  tender  stalk, 
and  each  crystal  drop  that  fell  seemed  like  some  dainty,  tiny 
being  sliding  earthwards  from  twig  to  twig.  Jorn  looked  out 
into  the  night  and  listened.  It  was,  he  thought,  as  though  he 
heard  some  light  spirit  of  laughter,  and  the  opening  of  leaves. 
Around  his  window  multitudes  of  little  creatures  were  on  the 
wing.  Gnats  and  midges  were  darting  up  and  down,  spiders 
were  on  the  move,  comrades  were  being  sought  and  found,  and 
each  sped  on  his  own  particular  errand.  The  figure  of  the 
Sand-lass  flitted  through  Jorn's  memory,  and  those  proud  forms 


JORN     UHL  275 

on  the  picture  lyin^  in  the  old  chest  came  up  before  his  eyes. 
He  thought  and  thought,  and  gazed  away  into  space,  and  his 
mind  came  back  to  I>cna  Tarn.  He  saw  her  sitting  by  his 
side  on  the  white  deal  seat  bending  over  the  book,  and  saw  the 
gleam  of  her  beautiful  neck  through  the  fair,  ruddy  ringlets. 
He  roused  himself  from  this  dreaming  and  sat  up  a  little 
straighter  on  the  chair,  saying  to  himself  soberly  and  slowly, 
"  The  Works  of  Peace." 

The  door  creaked  on  its  hinges,  and  Lena  Tarn  came  in  ; 
there  she  was,  standing  hesitating  on   the  threshold. 

"  Come  in,  Lena,"  he  said.  "  What  is  it  you  want?"  He 
was  so  excited  he  could  hardly  speak. 

"  I  wanted  to  get  the  book.  I  thought  you  were  still  away 
on  the  roads."  She  went  over,  and  began  looking  about  the 
shelf  for  the  book. 

Then  he  spoke  to  her  again,  and  said :  "  You  haven't  been 
in  a  very  good  temper  these  last  few  days,  Lena.  Is  there 
anything  you're  in  want  of?  " 

She  tossed  her  head  and  said,  curtly,  "  Everj'body  is  in 
want  of  something  now  and  then,  but  it's  a  feeling  that  always 
goes  by." 

"  I  suppose  you're  glad  that  Wieten's  got  to  sleep  with  her 
patient,  and  that  you  have  your  room   all   for  yourself." 

"Why?  It's  all  the  same  to  me.  When  one  has  a  good 
conscience,  it  doesn't  matter  a  straw  whether  one  sleeps  alone 
in  the  room  or  with  somebody  else  there." 

"  Then  you  must  have  a  bad  conscience,  lassie,  for  last  night 
when  I  was  coming  through  the  passage  I  heard  you  calling 
out  in  your  sleep." 

"  Did  you?  ...  I  suppose  I  wasn't  feeling  well." 

'*  What  nonsense;  just  fancy,  you  not  well.  It  was  the 
moon  that  did  it.  The  rascal  moon  was  shining  full  into  your 
bedroom." 

"Oh!    It  may  have  been  something  quite  different." 

"No!     I  tell  you  it  was  the  moon." 

She  gave  him  an  indignant  look.  "  Oh !  a  lot  you  know 
about  it.  I  didn't  call  out  in  my  sleep  at  all,  as  it  happens; 
it  was  three  calves  that  had  got  out,  and  were  jumping  about 
in  the  garden.  I  saw  them  clearly  in  the  moonlight,  and  it 
was  them  I  was  calling." 


276  JORN     UHL 

He  laughed  mockingly.  "  Faith,  they  must  have  been  moon- 
calves, with  a  vengeance." 

"Oh!  you  think  so,  do  you?  Well!  maybe  they  were, 
but  this  morning  I  had  to  take  them  back,  and  found  the  stable 
door  open.  I  suppose  the  stableman  was  away  courting  last 
night.  Your  eyes  are  always  darting  about  and  spying  into 
every  corner,  so  I  wonder,  Jorn,  you  didn't  notice  anything 
of  it!" 

"  What!    do  you  call  me  by  my  Christian  name?" 

"You  do  me,  too!  I  am  almost  as  big  as  you,  and  you're 
not  an  earl,  are  you?  And  I'm  sure  I  am  just  as  sensible 
as  you  are,  if  it  comes  to  that."  She  tossed  her  head  pretty 
high,  and  as  she  snatched  the  book  down  from  the  window- 
shelf  as  though  she  were  saving  it  from  the  midst  of  flames,  he 
saw  the  splendid  anger  in  her  eyes. 

"  Be  on  your  guard  against  the  moon,  lassie,"  he  said,  "  else 
you'll  be  having  to  go  calf-hunting  to-night  again." 

He  was  now  standing  in  front  of  her,  but  didn't  dare  to 
touch  her.  But  as  they  looked  at  each  other,  each  saw  plainly 
how  it  stood  with  the  other's  will.  He  had  again  that  same 
look  in  his  eyes  that  he  had  had  earlier  in  the  day  —  a  vic- 
torious, impudent  look,  as  if  he  was  saying  to  himself,  "  I  just 
know  exactly  how  such  maidens'  scorn  is  to  be  interpreted." 
Her  eyes  said,  "  Oh,  I'm  much  too  proud  to  love  you.  Oh,  I 
do  love  you  so!"  She  still  lingered  at  the  far  end  of  the 
room,  as  though  to  give  him  time  to  say  something  more,  or 
to  catch  hold  of  her.  But  he  was  too  dull  t#  think  of  that,  and 
laughed,   in  order  to   hide  his  confusion. 

Night  came  on.  It  was  a  quiet,  wonderful  night.  There  was 
still  a  sound  of  whimpering  in  the  trees,  like  a  child  weeping 
softly  in  bed  at  night  when  it  has  been  left  alone  and  is  afraid. 
Now  and  again  there  was  a  glimmer  of  lightning  on  the 
horizon,  as  when  a  mother  comes  into  a  room  with  a  light 
to  see  if  the  children  are  asleep.  And  there  was  a  gentle 
breath  of  wind,  as  when  a  mother  croons  a  cradle-song.  The 
moon,  besides,  was  shining  almost  full,  her  face  a  little  pinched 
as  yet,  and  stars  from  all  the  sky  showered  down  a  myriad 
golden  spears,  so  that  all  things  on  earth  had  to  crouch  in 
silence  and  hide  themselves  away.  Even  the  people  who  were 
still  abroad  on  the  roads  spoke  softly  to  one  another. 

Jorn   Uhl    had   sat  down.      He  now  got  up  again,  saying. 


JORN     UHL  277 

"  I'll  just  iio  and  have  a  look  at  the  moon;  it's  a  wonderfully 
clear  night." 

He  took  the  high  stand  that  he  had  made  himself,  and 
brought  the  telescope  forth  from  the  old  chest.  Instead  of 
the  old,  buckled  spy-glass,  he  now  had  a  fine  night-glass  with 
a  three  and  one-half  inch  objective.  One  of  the  masters  of  the 
town  Grammar  School,  who  had  heard  of  the  astronomical 
leanings  of  the  young  farmer,  had  paid  him  a  visit  one  day, 
and  had  chosen  it  for  him.  It  was  the  first  and  last  luxury 
Jorn  had  ever  allowed  himself. 

But  as  he  was  creeping  across  the  middle  hall  as  noiselessly 
as  possible,  he  saw  that  her  bedroom  door  was  still  open,  and 
she  came  to  the  threshold  and  leaned  against  the  door-post. 

"Still  up,  Lena?"  he  asked,  surprised. 

She  said,  "  It's  not  very  late  yet." 

"  The  sky  is  so  clear,  I  thought  I'd  have  a  look  at  the  stars; 
if  you  feel  inclined  you  can  come,  too." 

At  first  she  did  not  move,  but  presently  he  heard  her  follow- 
ing him. 

He  set  the  tripod  in  the  middle  of  the  lawn,  and  said,  "  You 
ought  to  have  been  here  last  Sunday  midday,  I  had  the  moon 
and  some  of  the  biggest  stars  on  view." 

"You  don't  say  so!  Just  fancy  stars  being  in  the  sky  at 
noonday?  " 

"Of  course,  lass!     Where  else  could  they  be?" 

"  Oh !  .  .  .  I  hadn't  thought  of  that.  I  thought  they  were 
like  night-watchmen,  abroad  by  night  and  in  bed  by  day." 

Jorn  shook  his  head  emphatically.  "  What  strange  notions 
you  get  into  that  head  of  yours!  But  did  you  really  think 
that  was  it?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  you  don't  need  to  look  at  me  so  hard ;  I 
really  thought  it  was  so." 

But  he  didn't  feci  sure  how  to  take  her.  There  was  a 
roguish  twinkle  in  the  corner  of  her  e)'es  even  when  she  was 
in  earnest. 

He  moved  the  telescope,  and  began  searching  over  the  sky; 
at  last  he  adjusted  it  and  said,  "  Now  peep  in  there!  " 

She  was  somewhat  clumsy  about  it,  so  that  he  laid  his  hand 
on  her  shoulder,  and  asked,  "What  do  you  see?" 

"  Oh!  "  she  said,  "  I  see  ...  I  see  a  ...  a  big  farmhouse, 
all  afire.     It  has  a  thatched  roof.  .  .  .  Oh!    it's  all  in  a  blaze, 


278  JORN     UHL 

roof  and  all.  Sparks  are  flying  away  over  it.  It's  a  regular  old 
Dittmarsh  farmhouse.  .  .  .  Oh!  but  I  would  never  have 
believed  there  were  farmers  and  farmhouses  in  the  stars.  What's 
the  name  of  the  star,  Jorn?  " 

"Well!"  said  he,  "that's  the  best  thing  ever  I  heard  of. 
No,  lass!  .  .  .  you've  either  a  screw  loose  or  you're  a  down- 
right rogue." 

"What's  the  matter  now?"  said  she,  looking  at  him  in 
astonishment. 

"  You've  too  much  imagination,"  he  said,  gravely;  "and  in 
science  imagination  does  harm.  .  .  .  What  else  do  you  see?  " 

"  I  see  ...  a  broad  plank  at  one  side  of  the  farmhouse; 
it's  quite  dark,  for  the  burning  farmhouse  is  behind  it.  But 
I  can  see  deep  into  the  burning  hall.  Three  or  four  rafters 
have  already  fallen  in  and  lie  burning  on  the  floor.  Oh,  that's 
a  dreadful  sight.  Show  me  some  other  house  that's  not  afire. 
...  A  house  and  a  farmyard  I'd  like  to  see  where  they're  just 
busy  driving  the  calves  out," 

He  burst  into  a  loud  laugh. 

"  You  rogue,  you,"  he  said,  "  you'd  like  to  see  your  milking- 
stool  aloft  there  in  the  heavens,  too,  among  the  signs  of  the 
zodiac,  wouldn't  you?  Like  this — raised  high  above  your 
head." 

"  It's  you  that  ought  to  have  got  the  stool  at  you!  I  won't 
forget  that  day  in  a  hurry,  you  .  .  .  and  the  way  you  looked 
at  me.    That  you  can  be  sure  of!  " 

He  had  never  let  any  one  take  part  in  his  star-gazing.  Now 
he  wondered  and  rejoiced  at  her  delight  and  amazement.  "  You 
never  thought  of  such  a  thing  as  that,  eh,  lass?  What  you 
just  saw  is  a  nebular  star,  and  his  name's  Orion.  You  know, 
that's  the  sort  of  star  that's  still  uncondensed." 

She  said,  catching  her  breath  a  little,  "  I  can  quite  under- 
stand what  a  pleasure  it  is  for  you." 

He  nodded  and  said,  "  Now  you  talk  so  sensibly,  lass,  I'll 
let  you  have  a  look  at  the  moon.     Just  wait  a  moment." 

"  Any  one  would  think  you  owned  it  all  to  hear  you  talk. 
'  Hi!    this  way  with  the  moon!  '  " 

He  put  her  into  the  right  position  with  her  eye  to  the  tele- 
scope, laying  his  hand  on  her  arm  as  though  she  were  but 
an  awkward  child. 

Now  her  astonishment  knew  no  bounds. 


JORN     UHL  279 

"What  are  those  big  dints  in  it?  Just  the  same  as  in  our 
copper  kettle,  for  all  the  world,  when  it's  polished  and  hangs 
over  the  fire  of  a  morning  with  the  glow  on  it." 

"  Those  dints,  as  you  call  them,  are  mountains  and  valleys. 
Can  you  sec  the  mountain-peaks  av\ay  on  the  edge,  to  the  left? 
They're  lit  bright  on  their  left  side  by  the  rising  sun,  and  on  the 
right  their  dark  shadows  fall  over  the  land." 

She  shook  her  head  in  amazement  at  all  she  saw  and  heard, 
and  lost  sight  of  the  vision  in  the  ghiss  and  stood  upright  again, 
looking  up  into  the  sky  with  her  naked  eye. 

"  1  used  to  hear  about  all  these  things  at  school,"  she  said; 
"  about  the  thousands  of  miles  distance,  and  the  circumference, 
and  all  that.  But  I  never  believed  Uomiru'e  Karstcns  when  he 
told  us  about  it.  I  knew  he  didn't  tell  lies,  but  I  thought  it 
was  some  traveller's  tale  somebody  had  taken  him  in  with.  But 
now  I'm  inclined  to  believe  it's  true." 

"  Oh,  arc  you !  .  .  .  and  now  you've  seen  enough  and  have 
talked  enough  wisdom  for  once.  Go  back  into  the  house. 
You'll  be  catching  cold,  too,  and  then  you'll  be  dreaming  again 
and  seeing  I  don't  know  what  in  your  dreams.  Will  you  be 
able  to  sleep?  " 

"  I'll  try  to." 

Again  he  was  tempted  to  put  forth  his  hand  and  seize  her, 
but  respect  for  her  held  him  back.  He  dare  not,  he  thought  to 
himself,  take  hold  of  her  thus  as  it  were  like  a  highwayman. 

"  Be  quick,"  he  said,  "  and  be  off  with  you." 

She  v\ent  away  and  left  him  there.  He  turned  the  glass  on 
the  middle  star  of  the  pole  of  Charles's  Wain,  and  then  back 
on  the  moon  again,  observing  the  outlines  of  the  seas.  He 
wanted  to  finish  the  drawing  of  a  map  of  the  moon  he  had 
begun.  The  time  flew  by.  He  was  quite  absorbed  in  his  task, 
standing  there  in  the  middle  of  the  lawn,  flitting  noiselessly 
backwards  and  forwards  about  his  instrument.  He  cast  aside 
that  stir  of  young  life  that  had  breathed  so  hard  at  his  side  an 
hour  before,  and  came  back  into  his  old  tracks,  saying  to  him- 
self that  old  Dreyer  was  right.  "  That's  the  one  folly  you 
must  not  commit,  Jorn !"..."  And  yet  —  a  fine,  good- 
hearted  creature  she  is.  .  .  .  Happy  the  man  around  whose 
neck  she  puts  those  arms.  ...  Her  eyes  are  splendid  even  now, 
but  what  will  they  be  when  they  are  once  lit  up  with  love  and 
trust  in  the  man  she  loves!  " 


28o  JORN     UHL 

Owls  were  flying  from  tree  to  tree,  or  sitting  on  the  branches 
gazing  at  this  night-wanderer  with  their  wide,  lidless  eyes.  A 
little  company  of  five  hedgehogs  were  squatting  by  the  heap 
of  stones  near  the  alder  bushes,  quarrelling  and  making  peace 
again  with  low  grunts.  From  the  fields  came  the  sounds  of 
night,  now  a  cry  of  some  sea-gull,  now  the  far-off  lowing  of 
cattle.  ...  A  chain  clanked  and  jingled  against  some  horse's 
hoof,  and  wild  geese  were  flying  high  away  over  the  farmyard 
with  a  soft  whirr  of  wings.  .  .  .  He  heard  it  all ;  but  it  was 
all  so  familiar  to  him  that  he  did  not  take  its  meaning  to  heart. 
But  suddenly,  while  the  scream  of  the  wild  geese  went  by  above 
him,  he  seemed  to  hear  not  far  above  the  roof  and  then  on  the 
walls  of  the  house  the  faint  cry  of  a  bird  and  of  the  weak 
beat  of  wings.  He  looked  around  and  thought:  "What!  are 
the  wnld  geese  flying  through  the  garden,  then?"  But  while 
he  was  still  looking  in  that  direction  a  human  form,  a  woman 
clad  in  white,  appeared  under  the  caves  of  the  house,  holding 
one  hand  over  her  eyes  and  groping  along  the  wall  as  though 
seeking  an  entrance  where  there  was  no  door,  and  talking  to 
herself  the  while  with  quick,  excited  words:  "The  calves  are 
in  the  garden,"  she  was  saying;  "  you  must  keep  a  better  watch 
on  them ;    get  up,  Jorn,  get  up,  1  say,  and  help  me." 

Jorn  Uhl  came  with  a  few  long  strides  across  the  lawn  and 
called  her  name  softly:  "  I'm  here  already.  .  .  .  It's  me.  .  .  . 
There!  there!  Now  be  quiet,  lass.  .  .  .  It's  me.  .  .  .  No- 
body else  is  here." 

She  had  suddenly  grown  silent,  and  began  rubbing  her  eyes 
with  the  back  of  her  hand  just  as  a  little  child  does  when  it 
wakes;  and  all  the  while  she  kept  complaining  after  children's 
fashion.  Then  Jorn  put  his  arms  around  her  and  told  her 
where  she  was,  and  led  her  to  the  stable  door,  and  tried  to 
comfort  her.  "  Don't  you  see,  here  is  the  stable  door.  It  was 
here  you  went  through,  you  old  dreamer,  you;  you've  been 
through  the  whole  length  of  the  stable  in  your  sleep.  Have 
you  been  after  the  moon-calves  again?  Aren't  you  a  goose, 
eh?  .  •  .  There,  there,  you  needn't  tremble  so.  You'll  soon 
be  back  in  your  own  room  now." 

W'iicn  at  last  she  clearly  understood  her  plight,  she  was 
terrified  and  put  her  hands  to  her  face,  uttering  cries  of  shame, 
"Oh,  oh!  how  dreadful!  how  dreadful!"  But  he  caressed 
her  and  took  her  hands  from  her  face,  and  said  affectionately, 


JORN     UHL  281 

"Now  give  over  weepinp;,  lassie,  and  just  let  things  be  as  they 
are."  So  they  caiiic  to  the  open  door  which  led  into  her  bed- 
room. 

It  must  have  been  a  remarkable  night;  for  not  only  did 
half  the  calves  break  out  of  the  meadow,  —  and  had  really  to 
be  hunted  out  of  the  yard  and  garden  next  morning,  —  but  the 
stableman  himself  had  not  come  back  home  at  all  that  night. 
He  came  home  toward  dawn,  straight  across  the  fields,  hum- 
ming a  tune  to  himself.  When  he  saw  the  young  farmer,  who 
was  striding  along  by  the  side  of  the  house  with  hasty  steps 
and  his  eyes  on  the  ground  as  though  they  were  seeking  for 
lost  footprints,  the  latter  said,  "  I  am  about  full  up  of  life  in 
single  harness,  master.  If  I  can  find  a  good  'un,  come  Michael- 
mas, I'll  marry  her." 

After  morning  coffee  Jorn  Uhl  put  on  his  Sunday  coat  and 
went  into  the  village.  The  parish  clerk  was  in  a  better 
humor  than  yesterday.  He  no  longer  expressed  his  astonishment. 
As  parish  clerk,  registrar  of  births  and  marriages,  church  ac- 
countant, and  fire  commissioner  all  in  one,  he  had  had  many 
an  odd  experience.  He  knew,  too,  that  there's  nothing  stranger 
and  deeper  than  a  marsh-farmer. 

"  Right,  Uhl,"  he  said,  "  it  isn't  good  for  man  to  be  alone; 
we  must  e'en  give  him  a  helpmeet,  or  he'll  be  in  a  mess. 
Maria  Magdalena  Tarn,  only  daughter  of  the  Katner,  Jasper 
Cornelius  Tarn,  of  the  village  of  Todum.  We'll  write  it 
'  Katner,'  Jorn,  although  not  a  soul  uses  the  word  in  these 
parts.  But  in  the  Prussian  printed  forms  that's  the  word  that's 
used  for  cottager  nowadays.  And  as  it's  the  Prussians  that 
have  woke  us  up  out  of  our  sleep,  I  suppose  they  ought  to 
have  the  sending  of  us  to  work,  too.  So  that's  all  right.  Nine- 
teen years  of  age!  Still  young,  Jorn.  But  they  get  old  of 
themselves,  and  that's  a  fact." 

When  Jorn  was  coming  back,  he  found  as  he  was  passing 
through  the  orchard  a  wild  goose  lying  not  far  from  the  stone 
bridge  by  the  garden  gate.  It  was  still  alive.  He  killed  it, 
and  took  it  into  the  kitchen  with  him,  where  Lena  Tarn  was 
standing  before  the  fire,  with  her  cheeks  all  burning.  He 
showed  her  the  bird,  and  said:  "It  had  broken  one  of  its 
wings,  and  was  lying  on  the  garden  path." 

She  threw  a  quick  glance  at  It  and  said  nothing. 


282  J  O  R  N     U  H  L 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  and  now  I'd  like  to  know  what  you  think 
of  me,  eh?"  As  she  made  no  reply  he  came  a  little  closer. 
"  You  have  always  been  high-handed  enough,  especially  toward 
me.  Now  toss  your  head  and  scold  me  to  your  heart's  content. 
I've  deserved  it." 

She  remained  silent,  only  laying  both  hands  to  her  temples 
and  gazing  into  the  fire. 

He  drew  one  of  her  hands  softly  down  from  her  head,  and 
holding  it  fast  in  his  led  her  through  the  hall  and  out  through 
the  door  into  the  front  house.  She  followed  him  will-less,  her 
eyes  bent  on  the  ground,  the  other  hand  still  up  to  her  head. 
In  the  big  room  he  brought  her  gently  to  the  armchair  by 
the  window,  and  pressed  her  into  it.  "  There !  "  he  said,  ten- 
derly, "  now  we  are  all  by  ourselves,  Lena.  You're  sad,  dear 
lassie,  and  very  angry  with  me,  are  you  ?  And  is  all  your  pretty 
laughter  gone?"  He  seated  himself  on  the  arm  of  the  chair 
and  began  to  stroke  her  hair  and  cheeks,  and  her  hands  which  lay 
in  her  lap.  But  she  did  not  look  up  at  him.  "  Here,  in  this 
chair,  Wieten  says,  mother  used  to  sit  many  a  Sunday  afternoon. 
That's  your  place  now." 

She  still  said  nothing. 

"  I've  been  to  the  parish  clerk's  and  have  arranged  every- 
thing, and  we're  to  be  married  in  June.  .  .  .  Have  you  still 
no  word  to  say?  " 

She  clasped  her  hands  and  said :  "  You  mean  that  will  make 
everything  right  again."  And  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands 
and  wept. 

Then  he  began  to  stroke  and  kiss  her:  "Come,  come,  give 
over  weeping,  dearie.  Why!  aren't  you  my  own  dear  little 
sweetheart  and  bride!  Cheer  up  again,  now,  do."  And  not 
knowing  what  better  to  say,  he  said,  "  I  won't  do  it  again. 
Only  laugh  once  more."  At  last,  at  a  loss  for  any  other  word 
of  endearment,  he  coaxingly  called  her  "  Redhead."  Then  she 
had  to  laugh ;  for  that  was  the  name  of  the  best  cow  in 
the  dairy,  the  one  that  always  stood  foremost  in  the  stall. 
She  raised  her  head,  and  looked  at  him  long  and  steadily.  .  .  . 
And  then  Jorn  Uhl  came  Into  the  land  of  softness  and  heart's 
ease,  which,  as  he  thought,  he  had  long  since  deserved. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

It  was  a  happy  year.  These  two  young  folk  were  proud  of 
one  another,  and  of  the  stately  farmstead  which  they  managed 
with  such  old-fashioned  gravity  and  earnestness.  Old  Farmer 
Uhl  had  never  recovered  the  use  of  his  limbs,  but  had  partly 
shaken  off  the  first  torpor  of  paralysis,  and  was  able  to  sit 
up  all  day  in  a  large  armchair.  His  appetite  returned,  and 
he  enjoyed  his  pipe;  he  had  regained  his  power  of  speech  suffi- 
ciently to  make  the  people  in  the  house  understand  his  growls 
and  exclamations.  His  youngest  son  came  into  the  room  every 
day,  and  walked  up  and  down  without  looking  at  the  old  man 
sitting  there,  and  reported  all  that  had  been  done  on  the  farm 
the  day  before.  His  father  said  not  a  word.  But  as  soon  as 
his  son  had  left  the  room,  he  called  everything  Jorn  did  stupid 
and  wrong.  When  he  was  in  the  middle  of  his  abuse,  however, 
Wieten  Klook  would  begin  to  talk  about  his  wife:  "Once,  I 
remember,  my  mistress  said,"  .  .  .  or,  "  Once  there  was  nobody 
at  home  here,  except  me  and  Mistress  Uhl,  and  she  grew 
cheerful  and  told  me  this  story,"  ...  or,  "  I  remember  just 
before  little  Elsbe  was  born,  she  that's  now  been  thrown  away 
on  that  good-for-naught  of  a  Harro  Heinscn."  .  .  .  Or  she 
would  begin  praising  Lena  Tarn  and  the  busy,  thrifty  way 
things  were  managed  by  her.  Then  the  old  man  would  grow 
silent  and  sit  there  with  half-shut  eyes,  his  wry  mouth  looking 
still  more  wry.  He  had  quite  lost  that  gay,  jovial  way  of 
laughing  that  had  belonged  to  him  in  days  gone  by. 

Jorn  would  be  back  to  work  by  this;  and  while  he  went 
about  his  tasks  would  be  worrying  about  to-morrow  and  the 
day  after  to-morrow,  and  thinking  whether  he  should  sell  his 
corn  and  his  cattle  now,  or  wait  awhile,  and  whether  he  would 
ever  be  able  to  get  together  the  interest  that  was  due  on  the 
loth  November.  He  was  happy  and  proud  enough,  no  doubt, 
when  he  thought  of  the  trust  reposed  in  him,  and  of  the  fine 

283 


284  JORN     UHL 

estate  given  into  his  charge,  despite  his  twenty-four  years, 
and  of  the  fresh  and  blithe-hearted,  thrifty  wife  he  had  by 
his  side.  But  he  never  had  a  chance  of  enjoying  his  happiness. 
He  drank  of  it,  as  a  stag  fleeing  before  the  hunters  kneels  down 
in  haste  on  the  edge  of  a  brook,  and  then,  its  thirst  half- 
quenched,  has  to  rush  off  once  more  at  the  sound  of  horns 
and  hounds  growing  nearer. 

The  young  wife  did  not  worry.  But  she  worked  and  worked 
from  morning  till  night.  She  didn't  spend  a  penny  without 
having  something  to  show  for  it.  Thiess  had  given  her  a 
few  yards  of  gray  alpaca  as  a  wedding-present.  Out  of  it 
she  had  made  two  simple  dresses,  with  wide  sleeves  that  could 
be  tucked  back  from  the  wrists.  In  these  dresses  she  now 
worked,  healthy  and  merry,  and  every  day  looking  prettier,  her 
arms  well  browned  and  bare  to  elbows,  and  as  she  worked  she 
hummed  and  sang. 

Now  she  was  in  the  kitchen.  "  Gretchen,"  she  would  say, 
"  look  smart  now!  The  quicker  you  are  with  your  hands  the 
quicker  you'll  get  a  husband." 

"  Faith!    and  a  nice  thing  to  have  when  you've  got  him!  " 

"What!    when  he's  a  good  one?" 

"  Are  there  good  ones?  " 

"  Minx,  do  you  want  to  make  out  that  my  husband's  not 
good  ?  " 

"  Oh,  him!    The  farmer!  " 

"Now  just  hold  your  tongue!  Do  you  think  I  am  going 
to  banter  words  with  you  about  my  husband,  then  ?  But  look 
to  it  how  you  catch  one  for  yourself,  lass;  I  tell  you  it's  a 
piece  of  work.  .  .  .  Now  I  must  be  off  to  the  calves." 

Now  she  was  in  the  byre  with  the  youngest  calf.  "  They've 
taken  you  away  from  your  mammie  already,  you  poor  little 
Redhead.  Drink,  or  I'll  give  you  such  a  whacking.  I  am 
your  stepmother.  That's  right.  .  .  .  That's  the  way  to  do  it. 
Had  enough?  well,  lie  down  and  sleep,  then.  Shall  I  sing 
you  a  lullaby?  I  know  cradle-songs  enough,  God  wot,  for 
the  time  I  shall  need  them.  Don't  look  at  me  so  stupidly, 
Redhead,  I  tell  you  I  have  got  no  time.  When  the  farmer 
comes  by  with  those  long  legs  of  his,  remember  me  to  him 
and  tell  him  he's  a  rogue.  When  you're  bigger  you'll  have 
to  lead  him  a  dance  down  into  the  old  moat,  like  your  brother 


J  O  R  N     U  H  L  285 

did  last  year.  He  has  deserved  it  of  me.  A  pretty  pass  he's 
brought  me  to." 

And  while  she  was  standing  by  the  wash-trough  the  little 
children  of  the  workmen  came  by  and  commenced  chatting 
with  her.  They  talked  on  quietly  for  a  time,  then  suddenly 
the  children  pricked  up  their  ears.  They  had  heard  a  low 
chirping. 

"Oh,  Neuschc  "  (that  means  "  neighbor  "),  "  what  little  bird 
is  that  that  goes  cheep,  cheep?  " 

"  Listen." 

"  Oh,  Neusche,  where's  the  little  bird  that  goes  cheep, 
cheep?  " 

"  Listen,  again." 

"  Oh,  Neusche,  you've  got  the  little  bird  that  goes  cheep, 
cheep,  there  in  your  breast!  " 

Then  she  knelt  down  before  the  children  and  opened  the 
bosom  of  her  dress,  and  showed  them  a  little  chicken  she 
had  found  half-frozen  to  death,  and  which  she  was  warming 
between  her  breasts.  It  cheeped  away  as  she  set  it  down, 
still  wrapped  in  a  little  woollen  cloth. 

The  children  were  astonished,  and  Lena  Tarn  laughed 
and  said,  "  Children,  you  must  tell  your  mother,  '  Mother 
Neusche's  got  a  little  bird  that  goes  cheep,  cheep!'"  Now, 
that's  the  way  people  in  those  parts  have  of  saying  that  a 
woman    is    with    child. 

Toward  the  end  of  harvest  the  thrashing-machine  came 
into  the  village.  There  was  a  miserly  auld  wife  who  had,  as 
she  thought,  paid  too  dear  for  her  silk  skirt.  So  she 
determined  to  make  it  up  out  of  the  wages  of  the  thirty  men 
working  with  the  machine.  She  had  a  certain  pot  of  rancid 
fat  in  the  kitchen,  and  therewith  she  baked  them  a  number 
of  stiff,  hard  pancakes.  The  men  sniffed  at  them,  tried  to 
bite  them,  then  with  one  accord  they  arose  up  from  their  seats, 
and  nailed  the  two  and  seventy  pancakes  like  so  many  Witten- 
berg theses  to  the  great  door  of  the  barn,  and  then,  having 
fastened  ropes  to  the  heavy  machine,  drew  it  away  out  of  the 
farmyard  with  shouts  and  singing.  The  man  in  charge  of  the 
machine  now  made  haste  and  went  about  to  seek  for  work  for 
the  day,  and  well  he  knew  he  wouldn't  find  it  so  quickly:  one 
faimer,    whose   wife   cooked   over    frugally,    said   he   wouldn't 


286  JORN     UHL 

try  and  force  things;    another  thought  he  was  doing  a  clever 
thing  to  leave  the  corn  in  sheaf  awhile  longer. 

But  it  was  the  wives  who  made  most  ado.  "  I  tell  you," 
said  they  to  their  husbands,  "  1  can't  provide  for  thirty  men 
all  in  a  twinkle  of  the  eye.     In  two  hours  it  will  be  dinner- 

tmie. 

So  the  machine-master  in  his  quandary  came  running  over 
to  Jorn  Uhl.     And  Jorn  Uhl  hastened  to  the  kitchen. 

"What's  your  idea  about  it,  Lena  Tarn?" 

"  Will  it  suit  you,  Jorn?  " 

"To  a  T,  my  girl.  I'll  just  set  the  whole  five  teams  to 
work  and  cart  the  beans  in  straight  away." 

She  gave  a  quick  look  around,  cast  one  glance  through  the 
kitchen,  and  another  in  the  direction  of  the  cellar,  and  then 
she  had  made  up  her  mind.  "  Let  them  come,"  she  said. 
"  They'll  have  to  have  their  meal  an  hour  later." 

Half  an  hour  afterward  the  machine  was  busy  in  the  yard 
puflfing  and  whirring,  and  sheaves  were  flying,  and  the  heavy 
black  corn  went  rustling  into  the  sacks. 

Lena  was  not  of  the  worrying  and  brooding  sort.  She 
lived  like  a  child,  with  her  heart  in  the  present.  That  is  why 
she  had  pleased  him  so  greatly,  being  so  different  from  him 
in  this.  She  lived  as  free  from  care  as  a  bird.  Think  of  the 
birds  of  the  heavens;  they  sow  not,  and  yet  they  have  always 
enough.  She  had  no  desires  of  her  own  and  no  expenses.  In 
this  way  she  thought  we  must  get  on.  She  thought  she  could 
constrain  prosperity  by  dint  of  honest  work. 

Once,  it  was  in  autumn,  it  struck  her,  however,  that  Jorn 
had  something  weighing  on  his  mind.  He  was  coming  back 
across  the  big  yard  after  having  been  in  the  village.  Through 
the  door  she  saw  him  standing  still,  lost  in  thought.  She  went 
out  to  him  and  said,  "  Are  you  so  worried,  then,  Jorn?  Come 
and  sit  down  a  little  by  my  side,  then,  on  this  seat." 

"  I  don't  like  sitting  here,  lass.  It  looks  too  grand.  As  if 
we  meant  people  to  look  and  say,  '  Oh,  there's  the  farmer  and 
his  wife.'  " 

"You  are  the  farmer  and  I'm  the  wife.  Strange,  isn't  it? 
Up  to  the  time  I  was  thirteen  I  still  used  to  walk  through 
sand  and  heath,  a  barefooted  girl.  And  the  back  wall  of  my 
father's  house  was  made  of  turf."  She  leaned  her  arm  on  the 
rough  wooden  table  and  rested  her  cheek  on  her  hand,  gazing 


JORN     UHL  287 

thoughtfully  at  him.  "  But  that  was  just  the  mistake.  You 
ought  to  have  had  a  rich  wife,  then  you'd  have  had  no  worries, 
you  poor  old  Jorn !  " 

He  said  nothing. 

She  went  on  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  like  work,  and  I  can  work, 
and  I  can  laugh,  too.  And  if  it  were  only  a  question  of  our 
daily  bread,  and  clothes  to  put  on,  I'd  manage  to  feed  and 
clothe  you  and  a  few  children.  Hut  more's  wanted  in  this 
case.  The  work  of  my  hands  must  turn  to  silver,  and  my 
singing  to  gold." 

"  Don't  you  worry,"  he  said,  comfortingly.  "  I'll  get  the 
interest  together  yet,  you'll  see.  But  I'm  afraid  I'll  have  to 
sell  both  the  two-year-olds,  and  I'd  like  to  have  kept  them 
another  year." 

She  felt  inclined  to  laugh  again.  "  I  hope  you  won't  be 
getting  hold  of  one  of  your  own  children  by  and  by,  and 
selling  it  by  mistake!" 

"What  will  it  cost?" 

"  Oh,  you  poor  old  Jorn !  what  will  it  cost,  eh  ?  Not 
much.  I'll  lie  up  awhile  in  Wieten's  room,  then  Wieten'll 
have  two  patients  to  look  after  for  four  or  five  days.  Then 
I'll  get  up  again  and  go  about  my  work." 

He  was  used  to  brooding  over  his  troubles  by  himself 
from  early  childhood.  So  he  had  grown  into  a  man  who 
was  like  nothing  so  much  as  a  house  with  a  high  wall  all 
around  it.  His  young  wife  laughed  and  sang,  worked  and 
loved,  and  came  with  it  all  no  further  than  to  the  outer  door 
of  his  soul.  At  times  she  knocked  for  admission,  but  he 
did  not  let  her  in.  She  seemed  to  him  to  be  too  kind,  too 
affectionate,  and  too  blithe-hearted.  Why  should  she  look 
into  that  dark,  anxious  soul  of  his? 

If  she  had  only  reached  a  riper  age,  and  had  had  happier 
days  on  the  Uhl  to  look  back  on,  she  would  have  become 
one  of  those  winsome  country  wives  such  as  are  met  with 
here  and  there  on  farms,  who,  with  their  good  humour,  their 
quick  wits  and  quick  hands,  their  energ\'  and  their  well-to-do 
ways,  are  the  very  life  and  soul  of  the  whole  farm.  But  she 
was  still  too  young,  at  the  time  we  are  now  speaking  of,  to  put 
forth  her  full  talents,  and  was  still  too  much  under  the 
weight  of  her  poverty-stricken  youth  to  act  with  frank  self- 
confidence.     But  as  though  she  knew  that  she  had   not  much 


288  J  C)  R  N     U  H  L 

time  left  her,  she  threw  on  all  who  dwelt  around  her  a  flood 
of  love  and  gladness. 

Of  a  night  when  she  was  alone  with  Jorn,  she  was  his 
delight.  Then  as  she  lay  in  his  arms  she  would  always  ask 
the  same  question:     "Things  went  fine  to-day,  didn't  they?" 

"  Yes." 

"All  the  washing's  dry.     What  about  you?" 

"Eh?     Me  .  .  .  dry?" 

"  Oh!    I  mean  what  about  your  work?  " 

"  Well,   the   bean   paddock's  ploughed." 

"  And  what  a  nuisance!  do  you  know  what  puts  me  out  of 
temper?  " 

"  Yes,  I  can  guess." 

"  That  I  daren't  sing  before  the  servants,  you  stupid  old 
Jorn.  Before,  when  I  was  a  young  girl,  I  used  to  sing  the 
whole  day  long;  it  didn't  matter  a  straw  to  anybody  what 
I  sang,  nor  to  you  either,  although  you  always  went  by  me 
with  your  nose  so  high  in  the  air.  But  now  I  have  to  mind 
my  P's  and  Q's.  Nor  can  I  now  blurt  out  the  first  thought 
that  comes  into  my  head.     That's  almost  a  worse  trial." 

"  Why,  you've  been  humming  tunes  the  whole  day." 

"  But  not  singing.  .  .  .  What!  .  .  .  Can  I  now?" 

"  Fire  away,  then !     But  not  too  loud !  " 

So  she  sang  all  sorts  of  melodies,  old  and  new,  mostly  old 
folk-songs,  keeping  her  voice  low  and  soft.  And  every  now 
and  then  she  would  hide  her  head  between  his  arm  and 
his  shoulder,  and  laugh  and  exclaim,  "  I  wonder  what  the 
servants  would  say !  "  Then  she  would  rest  her  head  on  her 
hand  and  lean  over  him,  bringing  out  all  sorts  of  droll  ideas, 
and  letting  them  play  before  him  as  a  mother  does  with  a 
chain  of  flowers  above  her  child  in  its  cradle. 

On  the  morrow  she  was  up  betimes  and  had  provided  for 
the  people  about  the  farm,  and  had  given  a  new-born  calf  its 
first  milk.  She  had  an  especial  love  and  aptitude  in  helping 
the  helpless,  new-born  creatures.  Then  in  restless  haste,  and 
with  quick,  dexterous  hands,  she  had  put  water  on  to  boil. 
Then  she  came  in  to  Wieten,  saying,  "  The  young  mottled 
cow  has  a  calf,  and  now  I  have  to  .  .  ."  She  tried  to  laugh, 
but  could  not. 

Wieten  Klook  came  over  to  her  and  laid  her   hands  upon 


JORN     UIIL  289 

her.      "  You    are   an    imprudent    lass,"    she    said ;     "  come,    lie 
down,  your  hour  is  come." 

It  was  a  wee,  but  strong  and  hearty  boy.  And  although 
It  says  in  the  Hihle,  "  In  sorrow  thou  shalt  bring  forth  chil- 
dren," and  altliough  Lena  Tarn,  much  to  her  own  astonish- 
ment, found  herself  lying  there  limp  and  exhausted,  she, 
nevertheless,  began  humming  its  first  lullaby  to  the  little 
child  on  the  following  morning;  and  although  Wieten  warned 
them  and  begged  Jorn  to  insist  upon  her  remaining  in  bed, 
she  got  up  on  the  sixth  day.  That  day  she  looked  after  her 
child  alone,  and  even  went  into  the  kitchen  and  brought 
water  for  its  bath,  singing  to  herself  tlie  while,  and  was 
prouder  and  happier  than  ever  any  queen.  Jorn  Uhl  let  things 
take  their  course.  He  was  so  proud  of  having  such  a  strong, 
healthy  wife,  and  no  namby-pamby.  Jorn  Uhl  was  too  young 
and  too  stupid. 

People  said  afterward  that  there  had  been  a  draught  in 
the  kitchen.  It  was  late  winter,  in  March,  when  the  wind  is 
damp  and  cold,  and  the  air  is  as  sunless  as  though  it  would 
never  be  spring  again.  But  it  is  easy  to  bring  accusations 
against  God  and  Nature.  The  truth  is  they  were  not  careful 
enough.  It  was  fated  that  Lena  Tarn,  who  had  been  so 
scrupulously  pure,  was  to  perish  from  contact  with  the  impure. 
That  same  evening  she  lay  in  bed  with  flushed  and  burning 
cheeks,  without  interest  in  anything,  and  in  the  night  she 
became  delirious.  She  who  in  her  good-heartedness  had  never 
injured  a  living  creature,  now  in  her  raving  went  to  every 
one  in  the  house,  even  to  the  little  stable  lad  and  to  all  the 
neighbors,  begging  each  of  them  for  forgiveness  if  she  had 
ever   done   them    wrong.  .  .  . 

As  if  summoned  together  by  her  terror-stricken,  wandering 
soul,  her  truest  friends  gathered  around  her  bedside.  There 
was  Thiess  Thiessen  standing  suddenly  at  her  chamber  door. 
The  damp  March  wind  had  bitten  his  withered  face  and 
made  it  look  still  sharper.  He  said  that  Lisbeth  had  persuaded 
him  to  leave  Hamburg  with  her,  so  as  to  have  the  first  sunny 
days  at  the  Haze.  He  came  up  to  the  bed  but  stepped 
back  at  once,  trembling  all  over,  such  a  fright  did  he  get, 
and  then  went  out  into  the  big  hall  and  paced  restlessly 
up   and   down,    rubbing   his   hands    together   and    shaking   his 


290  JORN     UHL 

head.  Next  morning  a  bright  young  form  appeared.  She 
came  up  to  Jorn  Uhl,  who  was  standing  helpless  by  the  bed- 
side, gave  him  her  hand  and  looked  at  him  with  compassionate 
glance. 

"  Lena,  dearie,"  he  said,  "  here's  Lisbeth  Junker,  the  little 
girl  I  used  to  play  with  when  1  was  a  lad.  Do  you  remember 
me  telling  you  about  it?" 

But  Lena  Tarn  remained  impassive.  When  Wieten  held 
her  child  for  her  to  see,  she  looked  at  it  with  a  long,  silent 
glance.     Mother  and  child  never  saw  each  other  again. 

Toward  evening  the  fever  increased.  She  tossed  about 
over  the  whole  bed.  They  went  backwards  and  forwards  in 
the  room,  went  to  the  kitchen  and  then  came  back.  Lisbeth 
Junker  stood  by  the  window,  her  eyes  heavy  with  tears,  and 
gazed  out  into  the  darkness.  Thiess  Thiessen  stood  in  the 
kitchen  by  the  hearth,  stirring  the  glowing  turf  with  the 
tongs.  The  doctor  came  for  the  third  time  and  soon  drove 
away  again.  When  the  driver,  who  knew  him,  looked  at  him, 
he  saw  but  hopeless,  sorrowful  eyes.  The  minister  also  came 
and  spoke  to  Jorn  Uhl;  he  might  just  as  well  have  spoken 
to  one  of  the  oak  tables  that  stood  in  the  hall.  It  was  a 
long,  anxious  night,  a  night  of  helplessness,  a  night  of  woe. 

Toward  morning  she  grew  more  restful  again,  but  was  weary 
to  death  and  could  hardly  speak.  He  was  "  to  tell  father  that 
she  had  loved  him  dearly." 

Jorn  Uhl  sobbed.  "  He's  never  said  a  single  kindly  word 
to  you,  my  poor  lass." 

She  tried  to  smile. 

"  You've  never  had  anything  but  work  and  worry,"  he  said. 

Then,  speaking  with  difficulty,  she  made  him  understand 
how^  happy  she  had  been.  He  bent  down  close  to  her.  She 
tried  to  stroke  his  hand.  She  no  longer  thought  of  any  one 
but  him;    her  child,  too,  she  had  forgotten. 

That  afternoon,  when  the  fever  was  returning,  he  told  her 
that  the  two  new  cows  had  been  brought.  And  she  begged 
that  she  might  see  them.  Perhaps  she  wanted  to  show  him 
that  she  still  had  interest  for  the  things  that  concerned  him 
and  so  comfort  him,  and  in  her  fever  got  hold  of  the  wrong 
thing  and  hit  upon  his  wish. 

So    the   cowherd    and    the    dairymaid    brought    in    the    two 


JORN     UilL  291 

heavy-uddered  cows,  and  led  them  with  firm  hand  through 
the  room ;   she  looked  up  and  laughed. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  the  fever  again  raged  through  her 
body,  and  she  fought  with  it  till  nightfall;  and  then  her 
strength  was  at  an  end.  The  doctor  came  in  the  night,  fiis 
buggy  lanterns  glimmered  in  the  icy  wind.  He  looked  at  the 
sick  woman,  and  called  Jorn  Uhl  aside  and  said  that  there 
was  no  longer  any  hope.  If  he  had  anything  he  wanted  to  say 
to  her  .  .  . 

Jorn  Uhl  went  back  to  the  bedside,  where  he  had  been 
standing  for  the  last  sixteen  hours.  \'es,  there  was  something 
to  be  said  to  her.  He  stooped  down  close  to  her  and  told 
her  in  his  clumsy  way  how  deeply  he  had  loved  her. 

She  tried  to  look  up  at  him.  It  was  meant  to  be  a  long, 
long  look,  full  of  wonder.  It  was  the  first  glimpse  she  had 
into  his  soul.     But  her  eyelids  were  now  too  heavy. 

After  midnight  she  roused  up  a  little.  From  the  few  words 
that  she  said  it  was  clear  that  she  wiis  back  in  her  childhood 
on  the  heath  at  Todum.  She  said  something  about,  "  You 
have  bare  feet,"  and  "  Those  are  snakes  .  .  ."  and  "  Here  are 
some  beautiful  blue  ones.  .  .  ."  At  Ir.  ,t  her  school  comrades 
from  the  little  school  at  Todum  were  with  her.  They  went 
with  her  from  bush  to  bush.  The  heath  stretched  out  and 
had  no  end,  and  the  others  lost  heart  and  wanted  to  turn 
back.  '"Yes,"  she  said;  "but  must  I  go  on  alone?"  So  she 
gave  them  all  her  hand.  And  as  she  was  going  from  one  to 
the  other,  all  of  a  sudden  they  weren't  school-children  any 
longer,  but  there  stood  the  old  teacher  Karstensen,  and  his 
beautiful  dark  eyes  sparkled  just  as  they  did  many  a  time  in 
the  religion  lesson,  when  he  pushed  Luther's  catechism  aside 
and  spoke  free  from  his  heart  about  the  courage  and  true- 
heartedness  of  the  Redeemer.  He  stroked  her  forehead,  which 
was  hot  from  the  summer  sun,  and  said,  "  And  now  go  straight 
on  and  you  will  not  miss  the  Uhl." 

And  jorn  Uhl  was  standing  there  and  giving  her  his  hand 
to  bid  her  adieu,  and  kissed  her  and  wept,  and  she  did  not 
understand  how  the  big,  strong  man  came  to  be  weeping  so 
like  a  child.  She  heard  it  clearly.  And  Wieten  Klook  was 
there,  too,  and  many  others  were  around  the  bed  weeping. 
Quite  clearly  she  heard  their  bitter  sobbing.  Then  she  turned 
her   face   away   and    departed    from   among   mortals,    pursuing 


292  JORN     UHL 

her  way  out  over  the  great  heath  alone,  on  and  on.  And 
it  was  very  lonely ;  and  it  grew  dark  and  her  soul  was  full 
of  fear.  But  the  farther  she  went  the  lighter  it  grew,  a^  though 
some  heavy,  dark  cloud  that  had  covered  the  sun  had  now 
moved  away.  And  gradually,  with  the  waxing  light,  she  found 
herself  in  the  midst  of  a  strange  company  that  came  about  her. 
They  came  from  both  sides,  very  quietly  so  as  not  to  frighten 
her,  —  single  figures,  —  and  some  came  from  behind,  approach- 
ing her  with  silent  steps.  They  were  forms  like  those  of  mortals, 
but  they  had  much  purer  eyes  and  walked  as  though  they  had 
never  known  care,  and  their  garments  were  as  of  white  silk. 
At  last  they  came  so  close  to  her  and  there  were  so  many  of 
them  that  she  was  quite  surrounded,  and  they  looked  on  her 
with  kindly  faces.  And  she  tried  to  laugh;  but  they  said 
she  dare  not  do  so  yet.  The  road  began  to  go  up-hill,  and 
toward  her  there  came  as  it  were  a  stream  of  light  or  song  — 
gentleness  and  strength  came  to  meet  her.  Many  hands  caught 
hold  of  her  and  led  her  onwards,  and  she  came  and  stood  before 
a  form  of  One  most  grave  and  holy,  that  bowed  down  and 
looked  on  her  with  kindly  eyes.  Then  she  stretched  out  her 
hand  and  found  suddenly  that  she  had  in  it  a  great  bunch  of 
brilliant  crimson  flowers,  and  she  gave  them  to  Him,  and  said, 
"  That  is  all  I  have.  I  beg  you  to  let  me  stay  with  you.  I 
am  so  very  tired,  dear  Lord !  By  and  by  I  will  work  as  much 
as  ever  I  can.  And,  if  you  please,  I  should  like  to  sing  as  I 
work." 

When  it  was  known  in  the  village  that  Lena  Tarn  had  died 
in  childbed,  there  arose  among  the  women-folk  a  great  run- 
ning hither  and  thither  from  house  to  house  beneath  the  lindens, 
and  in  every  house  was  mourning.  There  wasn't  a  dwelling  in 
Mariendonn  village  but  had  the  window  on  the  right  of  the 
front  door  hung  with  a  white  sheet.  Even  old  Jochen  Rink- 
mann,  cabinet-maker  and  funeral-furnisher,  who  was  wont 
at  most  times  to  do  exactly  the  contrary  of  what  every  one  else 
did ;  who  was  so  perverse  that  when  a  house  was  on  fire 
he  would  insist  on  having  a  corner  to  himself  to  put  out,  and 
would  growl  at  any  one  else  who  happened  to  pump  water  on 
to  It,  —  even  he,  I  say,  now  took  his  blue  apron,  having  nothing 
else  handy,  and  hung  it  over  his  little  workshop  window  that 


JORN     UHL  293 

was  nearest  the  front  door,  and  worked  the  whole  day  in  the 
dim  light.     And  he  hadn't  e\en  s^ot  the  order  for  the  coffin. 

When  Jorn  Uhl  came  back  home  —  it  was  the  fourtii  day 
after  the  funeral  —  he  saw  the  farm-servants  and  the  maids 
standing  together  talking;  he  sent  them  to  their  work.  He 
stood  still  in  the  big  hall  and  listened.  Many  a  time  he  had 
stood  there  trying  to  hear  which  room  the  humming  came 
from,  or  to  tell  whether  that  light,  brave  step  was  in  the 
kitchen  or  in  the  sitting-room.  As  he  listened  now,  he  sud- 
denly heard  the  loud  crying  of  the  little  child.  He  went  into 
the  room;  there  sat  his  father  by  the  big  Dutch  stove.  His 
pipe  had  gone  out,  and  he  was  waving  it  at  Wieten  and  scold- 
ing her  for  not  looking  after  him ;  and  by  the  bed  stood  Wieten 
leaning  over  the  child.     And  the  room  was  untidy  and  unclean. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

There  are  some  farms  in  this  country-side  that  are  dead. 
Avarice  or  debt,  or  public  disgrace,  or  evil  conscience,  or  slow, 
incurable  disease,  have  killed  all  the  life  that  was  in  such 
houses,  and  shut  out  all  that  would  come  in  afresh  from 
without.  The  earth  rolls  around,  civilization  goes  its  way, 
manners  and  customs  change,  the  nations  wage  war,  the  pros- 
perity of  the  people  waxes  and  wanes,  but  the  farmstead  out 
there  in  the  lonely  fields,  under  the  high,  dark  trees  behind 
the  thickets,  does  not  stir.  It  stands  there  still  as  a  nail  rusting 
in  a  damp  wall.  The  maid  in  the  inner  chamber  and  the  lad 
in  the  stable  forget  now  and  again  and  burst  out  laughing,  only 
to  strike  themselves  on  their  mouths  again  and  be  still. 

Some  day,  finally,  a  coffin  is  carried  away  from  the  farm,  or 
a  closed  carriage  drives  up,  and  voluntarily  or  by  compulsion 
a  benighted  man  gets  in  and  disappears  into  some  madhouse 
for  the  rest  of  his  life;  or  a  couple  of  old  people,  man  and 
wife  or  brother  and  sister,  with  sharp,  distrustful  eyes,  leave 
the  unclean  and  stuffy  rooms  and  the  tumbledown  farmstead 
for  some  dwelling  reserved  for  their  old  age,  fearful  of  the 
night  because  they  cannot  sleep  for  care  and  worry,  and  fearful 
of  the  day  lest  their  children  should  come  —  children  whom 
they  look  upon  as  thieves  anxious  to  steal  away  their  hidden 
scrip  and  debentures.  But  the  farm  comes  into  other  hands. 
VVindow-^shes  and  doors  are  taken  down.  House-painters 
and  carpenters  are  singing  in  all  the  rooms.  Soon  the  laughter 
of  some  young  wife  is  heard  there.  And  soon  there  are  flaxen- 
haired  children  playing  in  the  sunlight  in  the  courtyard. 

It  was  a  gloomy  November.  A  cold  west  wind  had  been 
driving  through  the  poplars  for  days,  and  there  was  a  sound 
in  them  as  of  the  rush  and  roar  of  billows.  On  one  such 
evening,  Jorn's  two  brothers  came  back  from   Hamburg. 

They  made  out  that  they  had  merely  come  to  have  "  a  look 

294 


JORN     UHL  295 

around  "  and  to  see  how  their  father  was.  But  their  fatlier 
turned  his  head  to  the  wall  away  from  them.  When  they 
had  left  the  room  he  abused  them,  saying  that  all  the  Uhls 
nowadays  were  good-for-nothinjz;s ;  he  himself  was  the  last  of 
the  Uhls  who  had  been  worth  their  salt.  The  two  visitors 
troubled  their  heads  no  further  about  him,  but  strode  grandly 
through  the  house  and  stables,  praising  this  and  finding  fault 
with  that,  and  prating  about  a  great  hay  and  corn  store  they 
had,  and  a  big  cart  down  there  in  Hamburg.  Tliat  evening 
they  went  to  the  village  public-house,  after  getting  Jorn  to 
give  them  twenty  shillings,  as  they  had  "  brought  no  change 
with  them."  They  came  home  in  the  small  hours  of  the  morn- 
ing. Jorn  Uhl  did  not  go  to  sleep  that  night;  he  lay  on 
his  back  staring  up  into  the  darkness  with  open  eyes,  and 
pondering  over  things.  He  knew  that  his  brothers  were  at 
the  end  of  their  tether  and  wanted  money  from  him.  He 
had  noticed  that  their  coats  were  patched,  and  frayed  in  front. 
The  blood  came  up  into  his  cheeks  when  he  thought  of  sons 
of  his  father  sitting  like  that  in  the  village  tavern.  Next 
morning  they  said  to  him,  —  quite  casually,  as  it  were,  —  "I 
say,  Jorn,  we're  going  to  borrow  a  small  sum  from  Fritz 
Rapp.  He  olfered  it  to  us.  In  Hamburg  capital  is  every- 
thing, you  know ;  whether  it's  one's  ov\  n  or  borrowed  doesn't 
matter  a  pin.  So  we're  going  to  take  it.  In  case  of  either  of 
us  dying  we  want  you  to  pvit  your  name  to  the  thing." 

"  Well  .  .  ."  said  Jorn  Uhl,  "  that's  all  very  well.  ...  I'm 
deep  enough  in  the  mud  already,  and  am  no  good  as  a  bonds- 
man for  you."  "  Oh,  it's  only  a  matter  of  form,"  said  Hinncrk. 
That  was  the  tone  they  adopted,  and  their  youngest  brother 
knew  not  what  reply  to  make  them. 

So  that  afternoon  the  matter  was  settled,  and  that  same 
evening  Hans  left  the  Uhl  to  pay  a  forged  bill  with  the  money 
he  had  received,  and  save  himself  from  prosecution.  Hinnerk, 
however,  stayed.  He  complaineil  of  rheumatism  in  his  weak 
leg,  and  said  that  he  thought  the  damp,  soft,  marsh  air  would 
do  him  good.  He  lolled  about  the  public-houses  of  the  villages 
around,  and  bought  himself  a  new  suit  in  his  brother's  name. 

One  evening,  toward  Christmas,  he  came  into  Jorn's  room ; 
he  found  his  brother  sitting  there  in  the  twilight,  and  told 
him  he  wanted  ten  shillings.  Jorn  answered  quietly  that  he 
should  get  nothing  from  him.     Hinnerk's  eyes  began  to  glitter; 


296  JORN     UHL 

he  said  a  man  couldn't  live  without  money;  he  had  borrowed 
a  matter  of  twenty  poiinds  already  in  his  brother's  name  from 
Fritz  Rapp.  Jorn  kept  control  of  himself,  although  his  voice 
shook;  no,  he  would  never  give  him  another  farthing;  he 
only  spent  it  in  dragging  the  disgrace  of  his  family  from  tap- 
room to  tap-room.  On  hearing  this,  the  brutalized  fellow 
cried  out  with  rage  and  lifted  his  hand  against  his  brother. 
Jorn's  blood  now  boiled  over,  and  he  caught  hold  of  the 
drunkard  and  roughly  bundled  him  out-of-doors. 

From  that  time  forth  the  limping  man  kept  quiet  when  he 
was  at  home.  He  got  the  farm-servants  or  passing  children  to 
bring  him  brandy  from  the  inn,  and  would  sit  in  his  room  with 
the  stableman  from  the  next  farm,  a  loose  fellow  like  himself. 
Then  he  would  throw  himself  on  his  bed  and  sleep  off  his 
drunken  bout.  He  seldom  appeared  at  meals.  He  seemed  to 
be  able  to  satiate  himself  on  brandy. 

Jorn  bore  all  this  in  silence  with  dark,  scowling  countenance. 
Old  Dreyer  had  said,  "  Don't  let  him  out  of  your  sight,  Jorn! 
Fritz  Rapp  has  got  some  evil  hatching  against  you  for  not 
having  paid  Hinnerk's  debts.  They  have  been  saying  they'd 
keep  him  drunk  on  brandy  for  a  fortnight." 

So  when  the  drunkard  wanted  to  go  out,  Jorn  barred  the 
way  and  said,  curtly  and  harshly,  "  You  stay  where  you  are!  " 

One  day  in  spring,  however,  he  left  the  farm.  For  a  year  he 
led  a  vagabond's  life  in  the  country  around,  working  only 
sufficiently  to  keep  him  in  drink,  abusing  his  father  and  brother. 
Now  and  again  he  passed  by  the  old  homestead  wuth  his  boon 
companions,  shouting  and  bragging. 

One  day  in  spring  old  Farmer  Uhl  got  up  from  his  arm- 
chair and  managed,  with  the  aid  of  a  stick,  to  walk  a  little. 
Soon  he  was  able  to  stand  and  lean  against  the  wall,  looking 
across  the  road.  And  after  awhile  you  could  see  the  heavily 
built  old  man  walking  barehead,  with  disordered  gray  hair, 
slouching  around  the  house,  and  looking  out  for  any  one  that 
might  come  along  that  lonely  way  to  whom  he  might  utter  his 
complaints  and  abuse,  and  tell  them  how  Klaus  Uhl  and  his 
children  were  mismanaging  the  farm  and  bringing  themselves 
to  beggary.  He  was  quite  convinced  that  he  was  the  Hinrich 
Uhl  who  had  founded  their  house  and  brought  the  family  to 
dignity  and  importance.  Once  it  happened  that  his  limping 
son  came  by  that  way  when  the  old  man  was  standing  there, 


JORN     UHL  297 

and  there  was  such  an  interchange  of  foul  language  between 
them  that  Jurn  (J hi  could  not  conceal  the  shame  of  his  soul 
from  one  of  his  men  w  lio  was  taking  out  food  to  the  cattle;  he 
shook  his  head  in  desperation,  then  in  his  blind  rage  he  struck 
the  fork  so  violently  into  the  wall  that  the  handle  flew  into 
splinters.  Such  outbursts  of  rage  came  over  him  more  fre- 
quently this  year.  His  character  began  to  show  flaws  and  to 
get  a  tendency  to  gloominess  and  austerity. 

The  old  maid  servant,  whose  hair  is  getting  thin  and  gray, 
looks  after  things  as  faithfully  as  ever,  although  without  her 
old  zeal  and  hope.  She  sits  and  sews  and  patches  for  three 
now,  for  there  is  the  old  man  and  Jorn  and  the  little  child  to 
care  for.  Wlien  the  old  witling  comes  in  from  outside  he  will 
sit  down  heavily  in  the  big  armchair,  and  grow  1,  "  Tell  me  a 
stor>'!  "  Then  she  tells  him  strange  old  tales,  such  as  the  soul 
of  this  people  has  invented  in  its  dreams.  Some  of  them  are 
very  silly,  others  very  wonderful,  others  very  eerie.  Of  an 
evening  she  takes  her  spectacles  and  opens  the  Bible,  and  will 
always  choose  some  part  or  other  of  the  Old  Testament  to  read 
aloud,  —  strange  miracles,  great  wild  deeds,  and  the  stern  words 
of  upbraiding  of  the  old  prophets.  She  has  never  been  able 
to  rightly  make  up  her  mind  about  the  New  Testament.  By 
nature  she  had  a  sunny  enough  disposition;  she  had  been  a 
soft  and  loving  child  in  those  old  days  when  she  used  to  play 
gipsies  with  Anna  Stuhr  and  her  children  on  the  heath.  But 
the  heart-breaking  experiences  of  the  years  that  followed,  and 
her  long,  lonely  time  of  senice  on  the  big  marsh  farms,  and 
the  way  in  which  Fate  had  bound  her  life  up  with  the 
tragedy  at  the  Uhl,  all  these  things  had  combined  to  lead  her 
out  of  life's  sunshine  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  shadow.  In 
the  darkness  and  not  in  the  light  she  now  sought  for  the 
Abiding  and  Eternal.  The  brightness  and  greenery  of  forest 
glades  no  longer  seemed  to  her  to  be  the  symbol  of  the  world ; 
she  sought  it  rather  in  the  gray  gloom  of  air  beneath  the  ancient 
pines. 

The  master  of  the  house,  too,  was  a  gloomy,  brooding  man, 
a  man  whose  lips,  despite  his  youth,  lie  in  a  sharp,  bitter  line, 
as  if  they  had  grown  together  by  dint  of  long  pressing.  He 
never  goes  into  the  village,  and  neither  knows  nor  cares  what 
happens   there.      Church    never   sees   him.      His    thoughts   are 


298  J  O  R  N     U  H  L 

bounded  by  his  own  farmstead  and  do  not  trespass  beyond  the 
fields  of  the  Uhl,  except,  maybe,  to  visit  the  little  churchyard 
where  Lena  Tarn  lies  buried,  and  the  parish  registry  where  the 
taxes  are  paid,  and  the  grand  new  house  of  the  Whiteheads 
which  is  not  far  from  the  Schenefeld  Church. 

If  any  one  were  to  come  to  him  and  tell  him  his  country 
was  in  danger  and  that  he  must  help  to  defend  it,  he  would 
say:  "Country?  What  country?  Don't  you  know,  man, 
that  I  have  my  hands  and  my  head  overfull  already?  The 
farm  is  overmortgaged,  my  father's  a  dotard,  my  brother  a 
vagabond,  and  Lena  Tarn  is  in  her  grave.  Don't  come  talking 
to  me  about  my  country." 

In  order  to  save  paying  extra  wages,  he  himself  patches  up 
doors  and  mangers  and  lattices.  He  goes  around  the  house 
with  a  bucket  of  lime,  putting  a  stone  to  rights  here  and  there, 
and  all  the  while  ashamed  of  himself  before  the  servants.  But 
the  farmhouse  must  be  kept  in  good  repair,  or  else  old  White- 
head may  come  some  fine  day  and  say:  "The  place  is  going 
to  ruin.  Clear  out  from  the  farm  altogether!"  Yes!  From 
this  farm  that  has  been  a  source  of  care  to  him  as  long  as 
he  could  remember.  And  what  was  to  be  done  with  those 
two  inside  who  are  telling  the  story  of  the  man  who  found 
an  iron  pot  while  he  was  ploughing,  an  iron  pot  full  to  the 
brim  with  silver  crowns? 

Jorn's  child  runs  about  alone,  left  to  itself  to  play  about 
the  stables.  It  has  none  but  taciturn  people  around  it,  and 
in  answer  to  all  its  inquisitiveness,  learns  nothing  but  sad, 
sober,  prosy  things.  So  it  becomes  old-fashioned,  and  at  four 
years  of  age  speaks  in  the  drawling  country  dialect  about  the 
price  of  beasts  and  cattle,  and  tries  to  play  six  and  sixty  with 
the  ploughmen  in  the  stable  corner. 

Lisbeth  Junker  used  to  come  once  a  year  from  Hamburg 
to  spend  a  few  days  in  the  old  village  schoolhouse.  On  these 
visits  she  always  came  over  to  the  Uhl,  too,  to  have  a  look 
at  little  Jiirgen.  Her  hair  and  her  eyes  had  still  their  fresh, 
Sunday,  virgin  look  as  of  old,  and  her  figure  was  still  full 
of  its  old,  lithe,  proud  strength  and  grace.  In  her  gray  eyes 
and  around  her  firm  rosy  mouth  deep  earnestness  of  charac- 
ter was  manifest.  She  took  little  Jiirgen  on  her  knees,  and 
told  him  with  those  demure  eyes  and  that  high,  soft,  shy 
voice  of  hers  about  her  life  away  there  in  the  big  city.     She 


JORN     UHL  299 

told  him  how  she  still  lived  there  with  her  aunt,  and  how 
much  she  liked  it.  "  Our  little  shop  lies  near  the  grammar 
school,"  she  said,  "  and  not  far  from  a  big  board  scho<jl.  The 
school-children  buy  all  sorts  of  stationery  from  us,  and  ink 
and  exercise-books,  and  we  sometimes  have  big  orders  from 
the  professors  and  sixth-class  boj's." 

Jorn  looked  reverently  at  her  fine,  proud  beauty,  and 
thought,  "  How  far  away  she  is  from  me.  She  is  a  princess, 
and  I  am  a  poor,  rough  ploughman.  What  business  should 
she  have  here  in  the  midst  of  all  my  wretched  life?"  Then 
he  said  out  loud  to  Lisbeth,  "  You're  too  young  for  it,  Lisbeth." 

She  shook  her  head.  "What  else  have  I  to  do,  Jorn? 
What  other  aim  in  life  have  I?  It's  better  than  being  a  mere 
dependent  in  some  strange  household." 

Then  they  began  talking  of  other  things.  She  tried  to 
lead  him  to  speak  of  old  times;  but  those  times  lay  far  from 
him  as  though  hidden  behind  some  vast,  gloomy  wood.  He 
was  too  close  beset  with  heavy  thoughts  to  understand  the 
shy  pressure  of  her  hand  and  the  pain  in  her  eyes  when  she 
was  bidding  him  good-by.  Then  she  would  come  again  on 
the  second  day,  perhaps,  "  to  have  a  peep  in."  But  the  conver- 
sation persisted  in  flagging.  She  spoke  of  this  and  that,  and 
asked  him  all  sorts  of  questions,  but  with  her  quick  intuition 
she  soon  saw  that  his  thoughts  were  elsewhere.  Then  she 
went  away.  On  the  way  home  her  cheeks  suddenly  flushed 
red  with  shame.  And  that  night,  when  she  was  back  in 
Hamburg,  she  cried  and  cried  imtil  she  had  no  more  tears. 

Once,  it  was  when  the  child  was  about  three  or  four,  and 
had  been  pla3ing  on  the  roadside,  it  came  into  the  big  hall 
with  its  hand  in  that  of  a  youngish,  fair-bearded  man,  and 
called  out,  "  Father,  here's  the  minister." 

The  other  minister,  the  one  who  used  to  go  through  the 
village  with  such  a  proud  knowledge  of  his  dignity,  and  preach 
so  loud  and  with  such  assurance  about  the  only  orthodox 
faith,  had  been  promoted  to  some  city  parish.  The  one  that 
now  came  was  a  man  still  young  in  years,  of  childlike  nature, 
and  one  that  frankly  said  what  he  thought  about  things. 
Everything  he  said  was  true,  but  sometimes  it  wasn't  pleasant. 
He  wasn't  the  sort  of  man  for  the  Uhls;  these  hard,  crafty, 
cautious  men,  behind  whose  words  one  always  has  such  a 
laborious   search    before   one   discovers   the    truth.      With    the 


300  J  O  R  N     U  H  L 

flight  of  years  he  gained  more  and  more  enemies.  At  last  the 
whole  parish  was  loud  in  its  cries  for  a  new  minister  in  his 
stead ;  they  wanted  one  who  was  more  positive,  more  ofiicious, 
more  unctuous,  and,  moreover,  a  good  card-pla.\er. 

These  Protestant  churches,  three  hundred  and  fifty  years 
after  Luther's  death,  are  still  unable  to  tolerate  a  pastor  who 
pretends  to  be  nothing  more  than  a  simple,  honest  man. 
In  these  country  parishes  there  is  many  a  sorrowful  and  heavy 
heart,  whose  sorrow  and  heaviness,  moreover,  is  all  in  vain. 

At  this  time,  however,  he  was  still  fresh  and  full  of  hope; 
he  had  only  been  six  months  in  the  parish,  and  trusted  to 
be  able  to  carry  out  his  task ;  by  honest  love  and  honest  work 
he  wanted  to  win  all  these  people  over  to  him,  and  thus  win 
them  for  the  Gospel  and  its  high  and  beautiful  message. 

So  the  minister  came  in  and  made  a  few  remarks  about 
wind  and  weather,  and  then  went  on  to  say:  "  Next  Sunday 
we  are  going  to  put  up  a  memorial  tablet  in  the  church  for 
those  who  fell  in  the  war.  So  I  have  come  over  to  ask  you  to 
come,  too.  I  know  that  you're  no  great  churchgoer,  but  you 
ought  to  be  present  at  this  festival." 

Jorn  Uhl  said  in  a  not  unfriendly  tone,  with  his  eyes  on 
the  ground :  "  I  am  in  no  frame  of  mind  to  join  in  with  you. 
You  will  know,  I  dare  say,  how  things  stand  with  my  father, 
and  what  I  have  had  to  go  through  here.  I  haven't  a  jot  of 
inclination  left  for  public  ceremonies  and  such  things." 

"  That  I  can  well  understand,"  said  the  minister,  with  a 
look  of  sympathy.  "  But  it's  not  a  dance  I  am  inviting  you 
to.  That  I  wouldn't  have  dreamed  of.  It  is  a  service  in 
memory  of  the  dead." 

Jorn  Uhl  looked  up  with  a  kindly  glance.  "No!  I  cannot 
come,"  he  said;  "  it's  out  of  my  power.  But  I'll  think  on  it 
when  you  are  together  yonder  in  the  church.  They  are  all 
brave  lads,  the  whole  four  of  those  whose  names  are  going 
to  be  put  on  the  tablet.  I  stood  at  Geert  Dose's  side  when  he 
was  dying.  I  will  come  another  time  by  myself  and  look 
at  the  stone." 

The  minister  looked  at  him  and  liked  him.  "  Well,  I  must 
be  content,  I  suppose,"  he  said.  Then  they  shook  hands  and 
bade  each  other  good-by. 

On  Sunday  evening  Jorn  took  his  little  boy  by  the  hand 
and    went    across   fields    with    him    to    the    church    way,    and 


JORN     UHL  3°' 

reached  the  churchyard  unseen  and  entered  the  church.  Hang- 
ing on  the  wall  in  an  oak  frame  lie  saw  the  marble  tablet 
gleaming  in  the  dim  light.  It  had  a  wreath  of  oak  leaves 
around  it.  There  was  still  light  enough  for  him  to  make  out 
the  names  on  it.     Beneath  the  names  was  written : 

"  THEY   DIED    FOR   THEIR   COUNTRY." 

Jorn  nodded.    The  simple  tablet  and  short  epitaph  pleased  him. 

He    heard    some    one    else    enter    the    church,    and    looking 

around  saw  it  was  the  minister.     "  Do  you  like  it?"  he  asked 

"  It's  a  good  epitaph,"  said  Jorn. 

"  Many  members  of  the  congregation  wanted  something 
grander  and  more  rhetorical.  ...  If  you  look  at  the  matter 
closely,"  he  went  on,  gravely,  "  every  earnest  man  does  the 
same  as  these  four  men  have  done.  These  did  it  in  three  days, 
or  in  three  weeks,  with  their  sorrow  heaped  upon  them.  And 
your  young  wife,  Lhl,  did  it,  too,  in  a  few  days;  she  gave 
her  life  for  you  and  the  child.  Others  take  years  to  do  it  in, 
some  for  their  children's  sake,  some  for  the  sake  of  an  idea, 
or  whatever  other  noble  motives  drive  men  to  suffer  volun- 
tarily for  others.  Yesterday  we  buried  the  wife  of  a  work- 
ing man.  She  seldom  came  to  church;  but  her  whole  life 
was  a  faithful,  earnest  struggle  for  her  husband  and  her  chil- 
dren. Serving  and  self-sacrifice,  or  helping  others,  or  loyalty 
to  one's  fellow  men,  call  it  what  you  like,  that  is  the  real, 
human   kingship.     That   is  true  Christianity." 

"  I  can  well  understand  that,"  said  Jorn  Uhl.  "  That's 
a  thing  that  looks  one  squarely  and  honestly  in  the  face."  He 
nodded  and  looked  at  the  minister,  as  though  he  expected  him 
to  say  something  more  about  the  matter. 

"  The  Saviour,"  the  minister  went  on,  "  has  by  His  pure 
and  lovely  life  and  by  His  most  pathetic  death,  as  well  as  by 
His  gracious,  strong,  proud  words,  cast  into  humanity  a  great 
stream  of  thoughts  and  new  life,  words  like  a  living  flame  as 
He  said.  And  now  one  man  takes  this  and  the  other  that, 
one  church  this  and  another  that,  and  each  squats  in  a  corner 
with  the  little  rushlight  that  each  of  them  has  taken,  and 
looks  at  it  and  lets  it  flare  or  smoke,  according  as  they  prefer 
smoke  or   flame,   and   says,   '  That's  the  truth   of   our  blessed 


302  JORN     UHL 

Lord.'  Many  add  their  own  bit  of  truth  or  even  untruth, 
many,  indeed,  even  their  own  wickedness  and  niah'ce  to  it. 
And  in  this  way  the  real  image  of  the  Saviour  becomes  so 
petrified,  so  disguised  and  distorted,  that  the  real  nobility  of 
His  face  is  no  longer  seen.  And  yet  all  the  time  it's  not 
such  a  difficult  thing,  even  for  an  unlearned  man,  to  form, 
with  the  sole  aid  of  the  first  Gospels,  a  picture  of  Christ, 
wherein  the  great,  leading  features  of  His  life  and  will  and 
character  stand  clearly  forth.  As  far  as  I  can  see,  what  He 
lias  to  tell  us  is  this:  We  shall  have  faith  that  God  in  heaven 
is  always  ready,  even  in  our  darkest  hour  of  need,  to  help  us 
with  His  strong,  guardian  arm ;  with  this  joyous  trust  in  our 
hearts  we  shall  manfully  fight  against  all  evil  both  in  our- 
selves and  around  us.  With  this  faith  in  God,  like  a  strong 
wall  behind  our  backs,  we  shall  fight  for  what's  right  and 
good  and  never  doubt  of  the  victory,  first  here,  then  here- 
after. That,  according  to  my  idea,  is  what  Christianity  means. 
But  if  a  man  cannot  come  to  have  this  trust  in  God  —  for 
it  is  not  every  one  that  can  —  and  yet  nevertheless  can  live  a 
life  of  goodness  and  love,  then  let  us  accept  him  for  what  he 
is  and  be  content  and  rejoice  over  him." 

"  Every  good  man  must  agree  with  what  you  say,"  said 
Jorn.  "  There's  no  need  for  us  to  stand  brooding  on  one 
leg,  a  thing  we've  no  time  for.  Nor  is  it  necessary  for  us  to 
strip  the  reasoning  powers  God  has  given  us  of  all  independence 
and  then  to  accept  whatever  folk  choose  to  set  up  before  us, 
as  though  they  should  say,  'Feed,  bird,  or  perish!'" 

The  minister  gave  a  hearty  laugh.  "  There's  nothing  more 
certain,"  he  said,  "  than  that  the  things  Jesus  wanted  to  bring 
to  humanity  were  exceedingly  simple,  direct,  and  clear.  But 
really  I  don't  know  what  they  were  unless  they  were  what  I 
just  now  said." 

They  walked  together  as  far  as  the  edge  of  the  churchyard. 
The  minister  began  to  ask  about  Jorn's  campaign  in  France. 
Jorn  had  thawed  a  little,  and  now  spoke  with  slow  deliberation 
of  their  evil  plight  at  Gravelotte,  and  the  wet  camp  before 
Metz,  and  the  long,  bitter  weeks  around  Orleans.  Then  he 
said  he  had  no  more  time  to  spare.  "  We  have  a  mare  in 
the  stable  we  expect  to  foal  soon,  and  the  stable-boy  who  has 
been  left  with  her  isn't  thoroughly  reliable,"  said  Jorn.  So 
they  parted,   each   with   a   good   opinion   of   the   other.     The 


J  0  R  N     U  H  L  30s 

minister  went  into  the  village  to  speak  with  his  parishioners 
there,  and  try  and  soften  their  liearts,  hut  making  no  more 
impression  on  them  than  a  dog  does  with  its  barking  at  a 
passing  wagon.  But  Jorn  Uhl  went  back  to  his  farm,  there  to 
live  through  the  darkest  hour  of  all  his  life. 

For  whilst  he  was  on  his  way  to  the  church,  his  brother 
had  come  that  way.  He  had  been  drinking  and  brawling  all 
day  in  a  public-house,  and  had  learnt  from  the  lad  at  the 
stable  door  that  the  young  farmer  was  away  from  home.  Curs- 
ing and  swearing,  he  forced  his  way  into  the  house,  and 
stumbled  into  the  room  where  his  old  father  was,  and  poured 
out  his  hate  and  misery  before  him. 

The  old  man  was  already  in  bed,  but  raised  himself  on  his 
elbow,  and  stared  with  dazed  eyes  at  the  intruder.  "  What 
do  you  want?  "  he  asked,  in  a  quavering  voice.  "  1  have  toiled 
hard,  and  worked  in  the  sweat  of  my  brow,  and  have  stayed 
at  home  all  my  life,  and  whenever  I  had  to  go  to  town  I  went 
on  foot.  I,  old  man  as  I  am,  I  curse  you  and  your  father. 
The  house  and  home  and  wealth  I  got  together  with  so  much 
toil  has  dazed  your  wits.  Away  with  you!  The  whole  brood 
of  you!     You're  not  fit  for  the  sun  to  shine  on." 

"  You're  mad,"  said  the  drunkard,  supporting  himself  on  a 
chair  by  the  bedside.  "  I  tell  you,  you're  as  mad  and  crazy 
as  a  sow  that  eats  her  own  young.  But  it's  a  form  of  madness 
that  suits  your  purpose.  You  were  always  a  good  one  at 
finding  out  things  that  suit  your  purpose.  First  you  manage 
the  farm  like  a  rascal,  and  after  you've  squandered  everything 
you  set  up  in  your  craziness  for  being  a  man  of  birth."  He 
took  the  bottle  that  he  had  in  his  tattered  jacket  and  drank 
and  drank.  "  The  whole  world's  off  its  hinges.  I  tell  you. 
When  people  don't  like  being  what  they  are,  they  just  take 
on  some  crazy  guise  that  suits  them.  I'm  going  to  be  a 
different  man  from  what  I  am,  too.  Off,  off  with  this  old 
skin!  It's  too  shabby."  He  pulled  off  his  coat  and  flung  it 
on  the  bed.  "  Good-by,  grand-dad,  good-by,  great-grand- 
father, old  Adam,  you!  I'm  going  to  strip  this  old  skin  off, 
I  say.  What's  the  good  of  living!"  He  stumbled  out  into 
the  big  hall.     It  was  all  dark. 

When  Jorn  Uhl  caine  home  he  found  his  father  asleep. 
Wieten  was  not  in  the  room.  Then  he  went  into  the  hall. 
There  lay   Hinnerk   Uhl   on   the   floor  near   the   ladder,   and 


304  JORN     UHL 

Wieten  Klook  ami  the  old  ploughman  were  standing  by  him. 
\Vieten  told  him  how  his  brother  had  come  home.  "  I  went 
after  him  and  couldn't  find  him,  at  first.  Afterward  I  found 
him  here,  hanging  from  the  ladder." 

The  man  went  ofi  toward  the  stable,  and  said  to  the  lad 
who  was  standing  in  the  doorwaj'  with  pale,  frightened  face, 
"  Get  away  back  to  the  mare.    This  is  no  place  for  you." 

When  the  two  had  disappeared,  Jorn  Uhl  recovered  from 
his  stupor.  He  leaned  heavily  against  the  ladder  and  lifted 
his  hand  to  his  face.  And  Wieten  said,  "  Don't  take  on  so, 
Jorn,  laddie,  don't  take  on  so." 

The  coroner  came  and  the  magistrate,  and  Jorn  Uhl  was 
as  cold  as  ice  and  as  dangerous  as  broken  glass.  The  magis- 
trate asked  who  was  to  make  the  coffin.  Jorn  answered, 
"  What's  that  to  do  with  me?  " 

"  Yes,  but  we  can't  have  him  buried  as  a  pauper  at  the 
expense  of  the  parish." 

Jorn  gave  him  a  haughty  look.  "Why  can't  you?  Isn't  it 
the  parish  that  licenses  the  tap-rooms  where  men  may  drink 
themselves  into  sots?  Am  I  responsible,  then,  or  is  the 
parish?  .  .  .  Well,  let  the  parish  bury  the  sot  of  its  own 
making." 

That  same  evening  the  pauper's  cofSn  arrived,  and  was 
put  into  a  shed  on  the  right  of  the  cow-stall,  which  had 
formerly  been  used   as  a  chaff-room. 

Jorn  Uhl  and  Finke,  the  carpenter,  put  the  dead  man  in. 
"  Paupers'  coffins  are  made  beforehand,"  the  carpenter  said. 
"  He's  too  long.  .  .  .   He  was  in  the  Life  Guards." 

"  It  will  have  to  do." 

Wieten  came  in,  leading  the  old  man  by  the  hand  like  a 
child.  In  the  other  hand  she  had  the  empty  bottle  and  the 
cord.  "  We'll  put  them  in  with  him,"  she  said;  "  it's  no  use 
trying  to  deceive  God.  Now  He  can  see  his  temptation  and 
the  misery  he  lived  and  died  in."  And  so  saying,  she  laid 
the  things  beneath  his  knees. 

Jorn  Uhl  went  away,  shaking  his  head,  and  left  the  two 
alone.  He  walked  up  and  down  in  front  of  the  house  like  a 
sentinel  on  guard,  as  if  to  ward  off  further  shame  and  mis- 
fortune from  his  home.  When  he  went  inside  again  to  see 
his  father  to  bed  as  usual,  he  found  the  old  man  already 
undressed.     Wieten  was  sitting  by  the  bedside  reading  out  of 


JORN     UHL  305 

the  Old  Testament  the  story  of  Eh',  the  man  who  neglected  to 
train  his  children  aright. 

"  Jorn,"  she  said,  "  I  believe  he  knows  to-night  that  he's 
Klaus  Uhl.  He  asked  me  just  now  whether  he  was  the  man 
who  fell  on  the  ploughshare." 

Jorn  Uhl  came  to  the  bedside  and  looked  at  his  father, 
and  said,  "Are  you  comfortable,  father?"  The  old  man 
made  no  reply.  "  Give  over  reading,  Wieten.  It's  no  use.  It's 
too  late  for  that  now." 

"  Well,  as  you  think  best,"  said  she,  and  put  the  book  back 
in  its  place.     "  I  was  thinking  it  might  bring  him  to  himself." 

"Well,  and  what  then?"  said  Jorn. 

The  sun  shone.  The  wind  blew.  The  little  lad  ran  about 
the  farmyard  in  sun  and  wind,  holding  his  hands  high  above 
his  head,  making  believe  that  he  was  going  to  fly.  But  Uhl 
Farm  was  dead. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

Uhl  Farm  was  dead.  The  people  who  live  on  a  dead  farm 
mostly  grow  miserly  and  dirty.  But  that  was  not  the  case 
at  the  Uhl.  Wieten's  hair  kept  smooth  and  neat.  The  little 
lad  was  tidily  dressed,  like  the  child  of  some  workman  who 
has  a  good  wife.  Jorn  himself  now  wore  a  blue  cotton  suit  in 
summer  and  moleskins  in  winter,  and  his  waistcoat  buttoned 
up  to  the  throat.  Right  at  the  bottom  of  the  old  chest  lay 
unused  the  dark  blue  suit  he  had  had  made  for  his  marriage 
with  Lena  Tarn.  Nor  did  the  hearts  of  the  folk  at  the  Uhl 
grow  callous  or  hard.  They  were  guarded  against  any  such 
danger  by  the  memory  of  Lena  Tarn  and  her  goodness,  and 
by  Wieten  Klook's  quiet  gravity ;  and  the  young  farmer's 
inborn  feeling  for  what  is  honorable  and  pure  now  stood  him 
in  good  stead.  But  there  was  another  danger.  It  seemed 
as  if  he  was  going  to  become  a  recluse  and  eccentric.  Once 
before,  when  his  first  love  had  terminated  so  unhappily,  this 
danger  had  confronted  him.  Now  it  was  here  again.  In  his 
sad  and  anxious  solitude  the  inclination  to  brood  and  ponder 
and  think  out  the  cause  of  things  came  upon  him.  And  this 
was  so  much  the  worse,  since  it  now  found  him  a  man  whose 
soul  was  weary  and  bitter  almost  to  despair.  But  whereas  he 
had  had  to  fight  his  way  out  alone  before,  both  men  and  stars 
now  lent  him  their  aid. 

It  was  a  good  thing  that  he  now  had  some  inner  light  to 
guide  him.  It  was  a  good  thing  that  he  did  not  need  to 
stagger  about  at  random  and  go  reeling  into  the  abysses  of 
the  abstract  and  transcendental,  like  a  man  who  takes  a  run 
and  springs  down  from  the  world  into  space.  .  .  .  Up  in 
heaven  the  golden  hosts  still  trooped  by,  with  glimmering  lance 
and  shining  breastplates.  On  these  he  could  direct  his  tele- 
scope and  find  there  stuff  for  quiet  and  earnest  thought. 

Behind   the  house   in   the  orchard,   on   the  edge  of  the  old 

306 


JORN     UHL  307 

moat,  there  stood  an  old  garden-house,  whose  walls  were  stdl 
sound,  although  the  roof  was  in  decay.  He  set  this  little 
building  in  order,  repairing  it  and  giving  it  a  revolving  roof, 
and  in  the  little  observatory  he  fixed  two  firm  stone  pillars, 
and  laid  the  refractor  on  the  one  and  the  transit-instrument  on 
the  other.  On  the  window-sill  he  arranged  a  shelf  for  books 
and  a  clock,  and  nailed  various  astronomical  tables  and  charts 
on  the  walls.    All  this  he  did  for  himself  without  help. 

His  father  had  often  used  this  arbour  as  a  place  for  drinking 
and  card-playing,  and  his  brothers,  too,  had  often  sat  there 
of  a  night  in  company  with  the  wenches  with  whom  they 
consorted  ;  and  now  Jorn,  the  youngest,  quenched  his  thirst  for 
knowledge  there.  Half  the  night  he  would  sit  there  with  his 
charts  and  glasses,  peering  deep  into  a  most  learned  book,  and 
looking  exceedingly  wise,  with  his  forehead  all  puckered  and 
wrinkled.  And  at  times,  astounded  by  the  discoveries  he  was 
making,  he  would  strike  his  knee  with  the  flat  of  his  hand 
so  that  the  room  rang  again.  And  good  it  was  that  this  was 
so.  It  was  a  leap  out  of  a  field  full  of  thorns  and  thistles  on 
to  a  high  wall,  where  cool  winds  fan  the  dusty  laborer.  And 
men  helped  him,  too. 

The  municipality,  as  it  happened,  was  just  thinking  of  a 
new  plan  for  draining  the  district,  a  matter  which  requires  a 
good  deal  of  exact  preliminary  work,  and  costs  not  only  time 
but  much  labor  and  money.  Three  years  long  the  council 
had  been  reflecting  how  they  could  set  about  it  in  the  most 
prudent  and  most  thrifty  way,  and  whether  they  could  not 
manage  without  the  aid  of  learned  professionals,  who  send  in, 
as  is  known,  such  barbarously  long  bills.  So  they  came  over 
one  day  to  the  silent,  learned  young  farmer,  and  found  him 
sitting  there  on  his  farm  like  a  spider  in  its  web,  and  asked 
him  for  his  advice.  Jorn  thought  the  matter  over  for  a  week, 
making  diagrams  in  the  big  land  register  half  the  night  through, 
often  laying  his  long  forefinger  reflectively  along  his  long  nose, 
as  though  it  was  its  length  he  was  measuring. 

At  the  end  of  the  week  he  went  to  the  council  and  told 
them  that  he,  Jorn  Uhl,  would  undertake  the  whole  work, 
under  their  supervision.  They  should  pay  him,  he  said,  for 
the  work  he  did  at  such  and  such  a  rate,  payments  to  be  made 
each  New  Year,  if  the  year's  work  turned  out  to  their  satis- 
faction.    They  were  greatly  astonished,  and  requested  him  to 


3o8  J  O  R  N     U  H  L 

leave  the  room  for  awhile.  There  was  a  long  discussion,  and 
at  last  his  offer  was  accepted  by  a  narrow  majority. 

He  carried  out  the  whole  work  in  five  years  as  he  had  agreed, 
and  reaped  a  double  benefit  from  it.  It  put  some  money  into 
his  empty  pockets,  and,  what  was  more,  the  extra  work  pre- 
vented him  from  giving  way  to  his  fits  of  brooding. 

His  task  also  brought  him  into  touch  with  botany  and  miner- 
alog>\  In  his  tramps  about  the  district,  through  the  Geest 
and  the  IMarsh,  and  over  fen  and  heath,  he  collected  all  sorts 
of  plants  and  seeds  of  weeds,  and  rejoiced  the  heart  of  the 
old  professor  in  town  with  his  specimens;  and  when  new 
deep  trenches  were  being  dug,  he  was  seized  by  the  desire  to 
examine  and  define  the  different  kinds  of  earth  and  strata,  and 
the  old  professor  got  from  him  a  number  of  neatly  made  draw- 
ings with  exact  reports.     So,  you  see,  men  helped  him. 

His  little  son  was  growing  apace,  and  would  go  trotting  along 
at  his  father's  side  through  house  and  barn  with  endless  ques- 
tions, and  would  ride  and  drive  with  him  to  the  smithy.  And 
one  day  the  boy  went  alone  into  the  village  and  brought  an- 
other little  lad  back  with  him  to  play  with  him,  just  as  the 
lonely  dove  gets  itself  a  mate.  From  that  time  forth,  Jorn's 
intercourse  with  the  children  helped  his  thoughts  and  his  ways 
of  speech  to  become  more  childlike.  He  who  had  hitherto 
tried  in  vain  to  hit  the  right  tone  in  conversation,  now  sat 
between  these  two  little  chaps  on  the  form  near  the  big  barn 
door,  and  listened  knowingly  as  they  conversed,  and  found  the 
tone  he  wanted,  and  built  them  a  rabbit-hutch,  half  above 
ground  and  half  beneath,  as  is  the  proper  thing  with  rabbit- 
hutches.  When  the  lad  was  five  years  of  age,  he  used  to  carry 
his  father's  chain  and  surveying-rods  after  him  from  field  to 
field.  And  once  when  he  was  six,  and  heard  his  father  at 
the  beginning  of  harvest  complaining  to  Wieten  that  he'd  have 
to  hire  a  lad  to  drive  an  extra  cart,  the  little  fellow  got  up 
and  maintained  he  could  do  it.  And  during  the  whole  of  that 
hot  and  busy  harvest  for  four  whole  weeks  he  drove  the  big 
wagon,  and  was  proud  as  a  king,  and  crowed  with  laughter 
and  drummed  with  his  feet  for  very  pleasure  when  one  of 
the  men  upset  the  last  load  of  corn  by  the  gateway  where 
the  entrance  is  so  difficult.  That  had  never  happened  to  him, 
bless  you.  Jorn  Uhl  stood  by  the  corner  of  the  field  and  saw 
the  youngster's  delight,  and  came  near  laughing. 


JORN     UHL  309 

The  child's  parents  had  been  of  about  equal  stature,  tall, 
broadly  built,  and  lithe;  but  the  boy  had  his  mother's  eyes, 
and  it  seemed  as  if  he  had  inherited  much  of  her  kindly  and 
helpful  nature.  When  he  burst  out  with  his  ringing  laugh 
while  playing  with  the  dogs  or  the  children,  Jorn  would  come 
to  the  door  and  look  at  the  child,  and  his  thoughts  would  lose 
themselves  far  away.     Men  helped  him,  I  say. 

One  evening  —  it  was  after  that  conversation  in  the  church 
—  Jorn  Uhl  ventured  across  the  fields  to  the  manse.  It  was 
just  past  supper-time.  The  door  was  opened,  and  they  won- 
dered who  it  was  coming  at  that  hour.  There  stood  J(irn 
Uhl  in  his  dark  gray  suit,  broad  shouldered  and  square  built, 
in  the  doorway.  He  was  asked  in,  and  entered,  stooping  as  he 
passed  under  the  low  door  of  the  old  house. 

In  the  middle  of  a  low  room  he  saw  a  four-cornered  table, 
and  all  four  sides  of  it  were  occupied.  On  the  one  side  sat 
the  minister  reading;  on  the  other  sat  his  wife,  a  natty,  some- 
what delicate  little  body,  and  childless;  she  also  was  reading. 
On  the  third  sat  a  girl,  some  eighteen  years  or  so  of  age, 
a  schoolmaster's  daughter,  who  helped  with  the  housework,  a 
merry-hearted  rogue,  and  she  was  reading,  too.  On  the  fourth 
side  sat  the  minister's  father.  He  was  an  old  man,  and  had 
been  in  the  wars  in  his  youth  and  had  been  wounded  at  Idstedt, 
and  then  in  his  after  life  as  a  country  artisan  he  had  seen 
and  gone  through  all  sorts  of  strange  experiences.  He  was 
wont  to  say:  "No  need  for  me  to  read  things  in  books;  my 
life's  a  book  of  itself."  He  would  sit  with  his  chair  a  little 
turned  away  from  the  table,  and  smoke  and  tell  stories  that 
no  one  listened  to.  Only  when  it  was  anything  new  or  inter- 
esting the  others  would  look  up  from  tlieir  books  and  ask, 
"  What  was  that  you  were  saying,  dad  ?  "  Somewhere  or 
other,  squeezed  in  between  these  four  anywhere  where  there 
was  most  space,  sat  a  merry  little  lad  of  some  ten  years  of  age. 
He  had  no  parents  and  had  been  put  out  "  to  browse  at  the 
manse,"  and  '*  get  in  condition,"  as  the  minister  said.  He, 
too,  was  reading. 

Jorn  Uhl  came  stooping  into  the  room  through  the  low 
doorway,  and  there  w^as  no  chair  for  him.  At  last  the  girl 
stood  up  and  gave  the  boy  a  sign,  and  they  both  went  and 
sat  on  the  sofa  at  the  other  end  of  the  room,  and  put  a 
draught-board  between  them  and  began  playing  eagerly,  only^ 


3IO  JORN     UHL 

interrupting  themselves  to  dip  into  a  bag  of  raisins  that  had 
somehow  or  other  got  left  on  the  sofa. 

So  Jorn  Uiil  got  a  seat  and  talk  began.  At  first  the  minister 
thought  the  visitor  had  come  with  some  special  object,  so  he 
merely  made  a  few  general  remarks  about  the  weather  and 
waited  for  Jorn  to  broach  the  special  subject  of  his  errand. 

After  awhile,  as  Jorn  made  no  move,  the  minister  saw  that 
his  guest  had  reallj'  come  just  for  the  sake  of  a  pleasant  hour 
together,  a  thing  he'd  been  many  a  time  invited  to  do,  but 
without  avail.  So  they  began  to  talk  about  what  was  happen- 
ing abroad  in  the  wide  world,  and  from  that  they  got  to 
talking  about  the  stars.  It  was  the  minister's  wife  that  started 
the  theme,  and  it  went  so  far  that  night  that  Jorn  Uhl  got  a 
big  sheet  of  paper  in  front  of  him,  and  with  a  lead-pencil,  which 
he  gripped  like  a  hay-fork,  he  sketched  a  map  of  the  heavens, 
and  while  talking  in  quiet,  deliberate,  pure  High  German,  he 
took  the  whole  of  the  pastor's  family  with  him  for  a  long  walk 
along  the  Milky  Way;  striding  slowly  forward  and  following 
his  nose,  he  traversed  the  sky  from  one  side  to  the  other  with 
them. 

Everybody  in  the  manse  gave  a  sigh  of  relief  when  the 
door  shut  behind  him  that  night.  The  minister  said:  "Did 
not  I  tell  3'ou  what  a  clever,  sensible  fellow  he  was?"  His 
wife  answered :    "  You  were  right  for  once ;    it  went  fine." 

He  visited  them  again  at  the  end  of  a  fortnight,  and  re- 
peated his  visits  from  that  time  forth  about  once  every  fourteen 
or  fifteen  days.  Whenever  the  conversation  hung  fire  —  for 
neither  Jorn  Uhl  nor  the  minister  nor  the  minister's  wife 
were  what  are  called  "  society  talkers  "  —  the  minister  would 
take  down  a  book  and  read  out  aloud.  It  even  happened  some- 
times that  he  was  so  intent  upon  the  book  he  was  reading 
that  he  said  straight  out  that  he  couldn't  give  it  up  that  night. 
Then  Jorn  would  talk  to  the  old  man  about  war  and  the  life 
of  soldiers,  and  with  the  housewife  about  the  strange  fates  of 
different  people  they  had  known. 

When  it  came  to  choosing  the  books  to  be  read  aloud,  the 
minister  at  first  got  quite  on  the  wrong  track.  He  hit  on 
"  Faust  "  and  then  on  "  Reineke  Fuchs."  Jorn  Uhl  listened, 
to  be  sure,  but  when  they  had  finished  reading  these  books,  and 
he  was  asked  his  opinion  about  them,  he  shook  his  head  em- 
phatically,  and   said,   "  No,   minister,   that's   not   in   my   line; 


JORN     U  H  L  311 

Wieten  Klnnk  stuffed  nic  too  full  of  such  thin52:s  when  I  was 
a  child.  She  used  to  tell  us  just  such  flighty  and  unreliable 
stories  as  these  —  nie  and  Fiete  Cray,  who  has  since  been  dairy- 
farming  in  Wisconsin,  and  is  now  starting  a  wood-yard  in 
Chicago.  I  got  a  letter  from  him  last  month  —  well,  he  and 
my  sister  alv\ays  used  to  listen  attentively  enough;  but  for  me 
these  tales  had  no  meaning.  I'd  be  building  platforms  with 
the  knitting-needles  the  while,  and  laying  down  sleepers,  and 
building  railway  lines  with  Wieten's  wools,  and  when  I  grew 
a  bit  older  I'd  be  reading  in  Littrow's  '  Wonders  of  the 
Heavens.'  That's  my  particular  bent,  so  to  say.  But  I've 
always  had  other  things  to  do." 

So  the  minister  tried  books  of  travel  a!id  biography.  And 
thereafter  all  went  swimmingly.  Hiey  read  the  travels  of  an 
Arctic  explorer  and  then  those  of  a  wanderer  in  the  desert, 
and  the  life  of  a  statesman  as  told  by  himself,  and  then  the 
life  of  Jesus  as  told  by  Mark.  This  last  book  they  read  just  as 
they  had  read  the  others,  and  had  many  a  hot  argument  over  it. 

At  last,  in  the  third  year  of  such  intercourse,  things  came 
to  such  a  pitch  that  the  minister  one  day  said :  "  Both  of  us 
have  Frisian  blood  in  our  veins,  so  we  must  needs  get  to 
understand  something  about  philosophy ;  there's  no  getting 
out  of  it.  So  just  let's  clench  our  teeth  and  tackle  it.  I've 
got  a  big,  thick  hook  that  a  farmer  lad  from  Langerhorn  wrote, 
a  man  who's  now  a  famous  professor." 

So  they  began  reading  philosophy.  And  many  a  time  they 
looked  at  each  other  in  sheer  helplessness.  And  many  a  time 
it  seemed  as  though  the  farmer  understood  more  than  the 
pastor.  The  latter  has  never  up  to  the  present  day  become 
a  philosopher. 

In  this  way  did  men  and  stars  help  Jorn  Uhl  to  tide  over  the 
years  of  evil  and  loneliness. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

He  had  risked  it,  and  put  in  thirty  acres  of  his  best  land  with 
wheat.  He  wanted  to  take  a  long  pull  at  Fortune's  flask. 
If  things  turned  out  well,  he  would  be  able  to  pay  off  the 
first  instalment  of  the  mortgage;  up  to  the  present  he  had 
had  his  hands  full  trying  to  pay  off  his  brothers'  promissory 
notes.  The  wheat  came  on  well  through  the  winter,  and  in 
spring  shot  up  thick  and  even.  Jorn's  hopes  waxed  and  throve 
mightily;  then  of  a  sudden  they  shrivelled  up  and  were  dead. 
For  it  was  the  fatal  wheat  year,  when  the  crops  failed  all 
over  the  country. 

Jorn  Uhl  was  not  alone  in  his  misfortune.  As  I  write  I 
seem  to  see  many  a  soured,  harsh  face  peering  at  me  and  say- 
ing, "  Those  are  our  troubles  you're  relating  over  again." 

In  those  times  a  third  of  all  that  country-side  was  wheat- 
land,  and  it  was  wheat  that  decided  the  fate  of  many  a  man. 
One  year  sufficed  to  seat  a  farmer  firm  in  the  saddle,  or,  if 
he  was  weak,  to  fling  him  to  the  ground.  All  that  is  changed 
since  then.  The  Marsh  is  now  no  longer  covered  with  waves 
of  wheat;  it  no  longer  puts  one  in  mind  of  the  sea  that  throbs 
away  there  beyond  the  dikes.  The  Marsh  is  now  all  green  with 
grass,  and  we  Marsh-men  are  commencing  to  be  cattle-breeders, 
and  to  be  as  stupid  as  cattle. 

There's  a  story  told  of  a  farmer  from  across  the  Eider, 
how  he  used  to  go  out  every  morning  with  his  meerschaum 
pipe  in  his  mouth  to  look  at  his  cattle,  as  a  good  breeder  ought. 
And  coming  up  with  them,  he  would  go  among  them  and  say, 
"  Good  morning  to  you  all,"  and  would  go  on  talking  to  them 
something  in  this  strain :  "  Lads,"  he'd  say,  "  it  won't  be  long 
now  before  ye're  fat  and  fit.  As  for  ye,  my  mon,  ye're  a  bit 
too  lean  about  the  hind  quarters,  and  the  hind  quarters  is  a  part 
folk  lay  great  store  by.  No  matter,  though ;  I  tell  ye  ye're 
all  to  be  packed  off  together.    First  ye'll  come  to  Husum,  that's 

312 


JORN     UHL  313 

ae  town  down  yon,  and  there  ye'U  see  houses  cuddled  together 
like  peas  in  a  pod.  riien  yell  come  to  the  railvvay,  —  where 
it's  always  going  puff-puff.  Then  yc'll  be  off  down  into  the 
lands  by  the  Rhine.  That'll  make  ye  open  your  eyes,  I  warrant. 
There's  Farmer  Olders  has  been  down  there,  and  the  things 
he  can  tell  on  is  just  awful.  Chimney  after  chimney,  and  fur- 
naces glowering  at  ye,  and  smelting  and  hammering  and  filing 
everlasting.  And  there  .  .  .  there  you'll  .  .  .  hem!  Why, 
yes,  you'll  get  another  master  over  ye  .  .  .  and  I  ...  I'll  get 
my  bawbees.  So  we'll  all  be  content  with  our  bargain,  and 
there's  an  end  on  it." 

He  said  all  this  aloud,  with  his  hands  deep  in  his  pockets 
and  speaking  between  his  teeth  in  a  canny,  deliberate  sort  of 
voice,  without  taking  the  meerschaum  pipe  from  his  mouth  for 
a  second.  A  man  whom  he  didn't  see  was  working  in  one 
of  the  ditches  near,  and  heard  it  all,  and  set  the  story  going 
in  the  village,  that  is,  after  he  had  touched  it  up  a  little  on 
his  own  account.  And  e\'erybody  was  amazed  that  Farmer 
Sodcrbohm  should  talk  like  that  to  his  cattle;  for  he  was  a 
taciturn  man,  and  nothing  was  ever  known  to  come  out  of  his 
mouth  but  the  smoke  of  his  pipe. 

That's  what  it's  coming  to  around  here,  too.  And  there- 
fore he  who  writes  this  story  of  Jorn  Uhl's  life  has  bought 
for  himself  a  small  estate,  up  there  on  the  Geest,  eight  feet 
long  by  four  feet  wide.  And  when  the  time  comes  for  him 
to  lay  himself  down  there  to  rest,  as  he  thinks  of  doing  some 
day,  he  w  ill  he  able  to  lie  there,  he  thinks,  and  hear  the  rustle 
of  the  summer  fields  of  rye. 

One  evening,  about  the  end  of  July,  Jorn  Uhl  went  down 
into  the  marsh  and  met  old  Dreyer  there.  The  old  man  stopped, 
leaned  heavily  on  his  staff',  and  panting:  "  Say,  Jorn,"  he  asked, 
"have  you  noticed  that  there's  mice  in  the  wheat?" 

"  No,"  said  Jorn ;  "  I  was  out  there  the  day  before  yesterday 
and  didn't  see  a  trace  of  a  mouse." 

"  The  day  before  yesterda}-  there  were  only  a  few ;  yester- 
day there  were  a  good  number,  but  to-day  there  are  whole 
hosts  of  them.  I  am  in  sore  fear  for  the  corn,  Jorn.  This 
plague  of  mice  comes  every  fifty  years.  A  hundred  years  ago, 
my  father  has  told  me,  they  rin'ned  the  wheat  and  grass  fields 
for  three  years  running.  In  those  days  you  could  buy  a  good 
Dittmarsh  farm  for  a  pipe  of  tobacco  and  a  go-stick." 


314  JORN     UHL 

Jorn  Uhl  left  the  old  man  standing  where  he  was  and  went 
over  along  the  oat-fields,  and  saw  nothing;  went  further  and 
stood  by  the  hedge-gate  and  looked  into  his  wheat.  On  his 
right,  so  near  that  he  could  see  its  watery  mirror,  flowed  the 
little  river  Au.  And  as  he  stood  there  looking  away  over  the 
wide,  waving  fields  of  corn,  he  thought  he  noticed  a  blade 
of  wheat  near  him  suddenly  vanish  .  .  .  then  another  .  .  . 
and  another  .  .  .  and  another.  As  though  a  hand  were  silently 
stretched  up  out  of  the  earth  plucking  them  away.  He  passed 
his  hand  over  his  ejes  to  make  sure  it  was  not  some  halluci- 
nation. Then  he  saw  what  it  was;  he  saw  a  mouse  raise  itself 
on  its  hind  legs  —  one  bite,  then  a  second,  and  the  blade  bowed 
and  leaned  against  the  next  one  to  it.  It  was  dainty,  delicate 
fret-saw  work.  He  glanced  over  the  field  and  saw  more  than 
was  to  be  seen  —  it  was  as  though  the  whole  field  were  alive. 

"  Well,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  that  decides  it." 

While  he  still  stood  there  deep  in  thought,  he  heard  a  gentle 
sound  of  rippling  and  splashing  down  there  in  the  dark  water ; 
and  as  he  looked  he  saw  thousands  and  thousands  of  these  little 
creatures  swimming  across  the  stream,  passing  and  passing. 
Dazed  with  the  sight,  he  turned  around  and  strode  homewards. 

"  If  only  my  father  were  dead.  If  only  he  might  die  to-day 
or  to-morrow.  Will  it  have  to  come  to  him  being  carried 
away  from  the  farm  in  his  armchair?  Will  all  the  world 
have  to  gaze  at  our  poverty  and  peer  at  our  rickety  furniture  and 
torn  pillows?  " 

He  went  into  the  room  to  see  how  his  father  was.  "  He's 
just  the  same  as  usual,  Jorn;  only  he  refuses  to  get  up  to-day; 
I  think  he's  taken  it  into  his  head  that  there's  less  danger  for 
him  if  he  stays  in  bed." 

"  No  danger  in  bed !  Why,  Wieten,  Wieten,  it's  a  mice 
year.  A  mice  year,  the  likes  of  which  hasn't  been  seen  for 
a  century.  The  mice  are  in  the  wheat.  They're  in  the  farm- 
yard, they're  gnawing  at  the  bed-posts,  they're  eating  us  alive. 
It's  all  over  with  us,  Wieten." 

"  Jorn!  "  she  said.     "  Ah,  God!   Jorn,  don't  talk  like  that." 

She  went  out,  shaking  her  head  sadly;  a  little  body,  bent 
and  stooping,  a  shuffling,  timid,  wizened,  poor  old  thing. 
"  Poor  old  Wieten,  your  life  has  been  nothing  but  care  and 
worry.  But  quick!  Think  of  a  way  of  escape!  Quick!  for 
every  second  ten  wheat-blades   fall.     Every  minute  the  farm 


JORN     UHL  315 

.  .  .  Oh,  but  what  jzood  will  thinking  do!  Thinking  can  do 
no  good  now.     Nothing  hut  a  miracle  could  save  the  place.  " 

Jorn  has  gone  down  to  the  fields  again  to  see  how  the  mice 
are  ravaging  his  crops.  lie  meets  a  neighbor  coming  toward 
him,  a  man  u  ho  has  a  wheat-field,  too,  and  is  loaded  with  debts. 
In  the  last  two  days  he  has  grown  an  old  man. 

"  What  do  you  say  to  it,  Jorn?  " 

"  What  can  I  say,  Peter?  It's  not  the  fault  of  our  plough- 
ing.    It's  a  thing  above  our  might." 

His  neighbor  nods  assent  and  passes  on.  He  has  five 
children  waiting  for  him  at  home. 

At  the  beginning  of  August  it  begins  to  rain,  and  there's 
a  hope  that  some  disease  may  break  out  among  the  mice  and 
carry  them  off  as  quickly  as  they  came.  But  the  rain  is  warm 
and  soft  and  steady.  The  sort  of  rain  that  makes  even  chil- 
dren give  up  hoping  for  good  weather,  and  withdraw  in  groups 
beneath  the  dripping  eaves  to  tell  each  other  stories:  "  Once 
on  a  time  when  the  sun  shone,"  they  say.  ...  So  it  goes  on 
week  after  week,  and  week  after  week.  Is  it  really  harvest- 
time?    But  when  will  the  sickles  gleam  in  the  sun  again? 

They  are  but  little  tiny  beings,  those,  that  are  burrowing 
and  working  away  there  beneath  the  wheat-fields.  But  what 
difference  does  it  make,  little  or  big?  It  is  an  unnatural  sort 
of  life;  the  mice  there  in  the  loose  soil  are  living  lecherously, 
and  the  corn  that  the  rain  has  laid  on  the  soft  wet  earth  has 
learnt  vice  from  them.  Young  as  it  is,  still  in  its  cradle,  it 
is  beginning  to  sprout,  the  rank  and  wanton  ears  conceive, 
and  first  and  second  fruit  wallow  and  ferment  together  in 
vile  confusion.  There's  no  need  to  go  to  the  wheat-fields  any 
more;    nothing  is  to  be  done  with  them. 

Jorn  came  back  home  feeling  a  dull  ache  in  head  and  heart. 
As  he  walked  he  thought  to  himself:  "  I'll  be  worrying  myself 
ill  with  trying  to  fathom  it  all.  ...  It  is  stupid  to  be  always 
asking  the  why  and  wherefore  of  everything.  But  it  is  strange, 
I  can't  help  doing  it.  It  is  just  as  if  I  had  been  dragged  into 
a  dark  house,  and  had  escaped  awhile  into  the  sunlight,  and 
then  got  dragged  back  again  into  that  wretched  haunt,  and  had 
to  crawl  through  every  stuffy  hole  and  cranny  of  it." 

He  went  to  his  bedroom,  sat  down  in  his  chair,  and  threw 
his  legs  up  on  the  old  box  so  that  it  creaked  again.  "  What 
are  those  words  there  in  the  woodwork  ?     '  The  blessing  of 


3i6  JORN     UHL 

the  Lord  maketh  rich  without  labor.'  That  would  be  a  nice 
thing!  Well,  as  far  as  I'm  concerned,  let  it!  I  pray  you  for 
a  specimen  of  blessing  without  labor,  or  for  the  matter  of  that 
with  labor.  If  that  text  in  the  Bible  holds  good,  the  whole 
Bible  is  not  worth  a  rap,  nor  God  Almighty,  either." 

He  made  a  wild  gesture  with  his  hand  over  his  head  as 
though  he  would  fain  open  and  unbind  things  that  lay  there 
under  some  imprisoning  weight.  Like  a  man  lying  under  a 
heavy,  high  pile  of  straw,  while  more  and  more  is  heaped  on 
top  till  his  head  grows  dazed  and  his  breath  more  and  more 
stifled.  He  remained  sitting  there  in  his  chair,  brooding  and 
tormenting  himself,  and  every  now  and  again  passing  his  hand 
through  his  hair,  as  though  he  were  seeking  key  and  latch  and 
lock  to  loosen  and  free  himself  from  this  oppressive  thing;  so 
gradually  he  fell  into  an  uneasy  doze,  then  started,  and  woke 
again. 

It  now  seemed  to  him  as  though  his  life  had  been  all  cast 
away  in  vain.  For  a  moment  he  was  like  a  groom  who  has 
left  his  horses  for  a  moment  and  sees  them  rearing  and  ready 
to  bolt  in  wild  terror.  Jorn  L^hl  sprang  to  the  rescue  and 
flung  himself  in  the  way  of  his  own  thoughts;  he  tugged  at 
the  reins,  grinding  his  teeth,  and  his  wild  eyes  looked  into 
other  eyes  still  wilder.  But  he  was  thrown  back  and  sank 
on  his  knees,  and  they  were  off  on  their  furious  course.  Ho! 
how  they  galloped  on  their  wild  career!  Who  could  stop 
them?     Ho!    let  them  go  and  have  their  fling! 

How  was  that,  though?  He  had  been  at  the  town  grammar 
school,  hadn't  he?  How  had  it  come  about  then  that  he 
now  found  himself  in  such  a  sorry  plight?  Who  had  got 
the  farm,  after  all?  Not  Hinnerk,  for  he  was  dead,  and  he 
had  seen  him  in  his  coffin.  Who  then?  Why,  the  eldest,  of 
course.  But  how  was  it  possible  that  he  didn't  know  that? 
"I  must  have  been  through  some  serious  illness,"  he  thought; 
"  that's  how  it  is  my  thoughts  get  away  from  me  at  times ; 
but  everything'll  come  into  its  proper  place  by  and  by."  But 
one  thing  was  certain,  at  any  rate;  he  must  have  spent  a  good 
many  years  there  on  the  farm.  How  did  that  come  about, 
then?  Oh,  yes  .  .  .  that  came  about  in  this  way  .  .  .  right! 
.  .  .  His  father  was  a  drunkard,  and  so  he  had  had  to  leave  the 
grammar  school  and  go  through  years  of  toil.  But  now  all 
that  was  past,  and  Lena  Tarn  and  the  years  of  happiness  had 


JORN     UHL  317 

come.  lie  had  got  a  place  in  the  observatorj^  too,  as  a  kind 
of  servant  to  a  great  astronomer.  He  paced  up  and  down 
the  room,  and  would  fain  have  felt  glad  about  it,  and  was 
nevertheless  in  direst  anxiety,  so  that  he  thought  of  opening 
the  door  and  askin*:;  Lena  Tarn  whether  she  could  manage 
on  a  small  fixed  salary  of  nine  hundred  shillings  a  year;  of 
course  she'd  laugh  over  her  whole  face  and  say,  "  Like  wink- 
ing! why,  that's  nothing!  Pancakes  every  day  turned  in  fat." 
But  when  he  opened  the  door  he  caught  sight  of  one  of  the 
farm  servants  walking  across  the  hall,  and  hesitated,  and  then 
shut  the  door  once  more.  In  doing  so  he  struck  a  hard  object 
against  the  door-post,  and  suddenly  noticed  that  he  had  some- 
thing under  his  arm.  It  was  the  telescope  and  the  cloth  he 
usually  polished  it  with,  and  he  had  no  idea  how  they  came 
to  be  in  his  hand,  as  it  was  the  old  telescope  that  lay  right 
at  the  bottom  of  the  chest.  He  bit  his  lips  and  grew  pale,  and 
his  forehead  became  damp  w  ith  a  terrible  fear. 

"  Mad  !  "  he  said. 

He  paced  up  and  down  in  greatest  distress  and  anguish.  He 
tried  to  think  what  he  had  just  been  thinking  about,  worry- 
ing himself  to  remember  the  past,  and  could  not  unravel  his 
thoughts.  "  I  have  never  had  luck  in  anything  I  have 
undertaken,"  he  said  to  himself;  "  everything  has  turned  out 
bad.  .  .  ." 

"That's  what  old  Nick  Johns  used  to  say,  too,  after  he'd 
made  a  mess  of  his  life  with  his  own  muddling;  he  used  to  tell 
every  one  that  he'd  had  no  luck  .  .  .  that's  the  way  with  me." 

And  suddenly  his  life,  instead  of  a  long  story  of  toil  and 
worry,  flashed  before  him  as  a  mass  of  error  and  sin.  The 
bad  thoughts  that  race  along  by  the  side  of  all  the  works  of 
man  —  even  his  best  —  like  ugly,  swarthy  hounds  by  the  side 
of  noble  horses,  now  of  a  sudden  grew  into  gigantic  forms. 
"  Where  is  your  sister  Elsbe,  Jorn  Uhl  ?  You  never  looked 
after  her,  and  now  she  is  amongst  the  lost.  Where  is  your 
brother  Hinnerk?  You  struck  him  and  drove  him  away  from 
the  farm;  he  became  a  vagrant  and  a  drunkard  on  the  dusty 
road;  you  wanted  the  farm  for  yourself.  What  about  the 
ploughshare?  Did  30U  not  wish  your  father  to  fall  on  it? 
Where  is  Lena  Tarn?  Didn't  you  forbid  her  to  sing?  You 
said  she'd  have  to  get  up  out  of  bed  or  else  you'd  strike  her. 
You  are  a  villain  and  a  murderer.     You  are  a  sevenfold  mur- 


3i8  JORN     UHL 

derer  like  Tim  Thode.  They're  coming!  Hark  you.  .  .  . 
It's  you  they're  looking  for.  They  want  to  drag  you  away 
.  .  .  away  through  the  whole  village!  " 

"  I  must  go  and  see,"  he  said,  with  panting  voice,  "  whether 
these  things  they  say  are  true."  He  took  the  telescope  and 
went  down  to  the  garden-house,  and  set  the  instrument  in 
its  place  with  feverish,  flying  hands,  and  did  not  think  to 
take  the  cap  off  which  lay  over  the  objective,  and  looked 
through  and  said  to  himself  in  amazement,  "Black!  black 
as  night!  It's  God's  truth.  That's  the  way  with  my  soul. 
Not  a  jot,  not  a  single  jot  of  goodness  in  it.  Not  a  spark  of 
light  and  not  a  star  in  all  the  heavens.  It's  not  to  be  borne 
any  longer.  Where  is  one  to  go  to,  then,  if  this  is  so?  One 
cannot  see  three  steps  ahead.  That's  a  hedgehog's  life.  Hin- 
nerk's  ladder  is  standing  in  the  middle  shed  of  the  barn.  I 
will  quit  this  place.  I  will  go  before  people  have  noticed 
what's  the  matter.  There  must  be  light  somewhere  or  other, 
I  tell  you.  .  .  ."  He  closed  the  instrument  again  with  the 
same  feverish  haste,  and  was  going  to  go  out,  when  he  suddenly 
noticed  a  shadow  in  front  of  him,  and  looked  up.  There  stood 
Wieten  Klook  in  the  low  doorway,  looking  at  him  with  eyes 
full  of  wild  fear. 

Then  he  knew  that  he  was  no  criminal,  but  a  man  whose 
mind  was  clouded.  "  Thank  God!  "  he  said,  "  Thank  God!  " 
And  would  fain  have  kept  it  a  secret  that  such  darkness  and 
chaos  had  been  in  his  soul,  saying  with  a  face  twisted  into 
what  was  meant  for  a  laugh  and  kindliness:  "  I  was  just  going 
to  have  a  look  at  a  star,  up  there  .  .  .  beyond  yon  wisps  of 
clouds."  But  she  came  quickly  up  to  him,  and  looked  him 
sharply  in  the  eyes. 

"  What  ?  "  she  said.  "  What  ?  No,  Jorn,  I  tell  you  that  will 
never  do!  " 

She  seized  his  hand  and  led  him  through  the  garden. 

"  No,  Jorn  .  .  ,  that  won't  do.  That  was  not  the  tune  that 
Larry  the  Piper  made  the  people  dance  to.  That  would 
put  the  finishing  stroke  on  our  misfortunes!  Nay!  Now's 
the  time  to  hold  your  head  high,  laddie.  Your  son  shall 
never  say  his  father  was  a  suicide.  There's  nothing  in  it, 
Jorn.  It's  like  running  away  leaving  the  plough  stuck  in  the 
middle  of  the  furrow  in  broad  daylight.  What,  at  thirty  years 
of  age?    That's  no  way  to  knock  off  work,  Jorn." 


JORN     UHL  319 

At  first  he  pretended  to  be  quite  amazed  at  her  words.  Then 
he  grew  embarrassed.  At  last  he  came  back,  out  of  the  far, 
dark  distance,  to  himself  again.  Light  glimmered  within  him 
once  more,  and  he  felt  again  the  dull  ache  in  the  back  of  his 
head.  He  now  again  knew  where  he  was  and  how  things  stood 
with  him. 

"  It  is  a  sore  thing  to  bear,"  he  said,  wearily. 

"  Wait  here  a  moment,"  she  said  ;  "  I  will  go  and  fetch  you 
some  cold  water.  V'ou  must  grow  cooler.  Stay  here,  do  you 
hear?  Just  remain  sitting  where  you  are!  I  will  be  back  in 
a  moment,  and  will  remain  beside  you  all  the  evening." 

She  hastened  to  the  kitchen,  and  was  so  quiet  about  what 
she  was  doing  that  the  two  girls  did  not  notice  what  distress 
she  was  in.  She  hurried  to  the  sitting-room  and  seized  Jorn's 
little  son,  and  ran  across  the  big  hall  with  him.  He  was  still 
sitting  there  on  the  chest.  She  gave  him  something  to  drink, 
and  as  he  was  setting  the  vessel  down  again  \\ith  a  deep  breath 
of  relief,  he  heard  the  little  lad  at  his  knees  saying:  "  My  word, 
father,  how  pale  you  look !  You'll  have  to  take  precious  good 
care  else  you'll  be  ill." 

"  What's  the  good  of  it  all,  Wieten?  "  he  said. 

"  Yes,  yes,  Jorn,"  she  replied.  "  You're  right.  But  it's  all 
one,  whether  it's  hard  on  you  or  not.  It's  got  to  be  carried 
through.  Only  have  patience  and  time  will  help  us.  For 
the  present,  laddie,  lie  down  and  have  a  good  sleep.  Quick! 
I  know  what  is  the  right  thing  to  do.  Just  see  how  tired 
you  are.  Lie  down  straight  away,  and  sleep  like  the  man 
who  came  to  the  Hill  of  Slumber  and  slept  seven  years! 
Sleep,  laddie." 

It  was  good  for  him  to  have  around  him  the  two  people  who 
belonged  to  him.  They  were  so  kind  to  him.  He  smiled  wearily, 
and  got  up  with  stiff,  heavy  limbs,  laid  aside  his  jacket,  and  lay 
down  to  rest.     They  stayed  and  sat  by  his  bedside. 

When  he  woke  two  hours  afterward,  out  of  heavy  sleep, 
hearing  a  voice  calling  him,  the  old  groom  was  standing  there. 
It  was  dusk,  and  the  man  was  saying:  "  We  don't  know  what's 
become  of  Wieten ;  she  left  the  farm  an  hour  ago,  and  we 
thought  she'd  gone  over  to  a  neighbor's.  But  she's  not  there. 
And  now  the  girl  says  she  saw  her  take  the  field-path  toward 
Ringelshorn.  What  can  she  want  there?  There's  nobody 
living  there;    and  it's  dark,  and  the  ditches  are  full  of  water, 


320  JORN     UHL 

and  Wieten  herself  saj^s  she  can  no  longer  see  things  in  the 
dark." 

"Where's  my  little  son?" 

"  He  is  playing  in  his  grandfather's  room." 

Jorn  Uhl  sprang  out  of  bed  and  slipped  into  his  coat.  He 
was  suddenly  a  sane  man  again.  "  I  am  going  after  her," 
he  said,  as  he  hurried  away  from  the  house.  The  cold  wind 
beat  against  his  uncovered  head,  and  refreshed  him.  He 
went  up  the  broad  road,  and  then  along  the  cart-way  as  far 
as  the  foot  of  the  Ringelshorn  without  seeing  any  trace  of 
her.  Unable  to  see  any  distance  through  the  heavy,  rainy 
air,  he  stood  there  undecided,  and  was  going  to  shout  her 
name,  when  the  thought  suddenly  struck  him  that  he  might 
find  her  by  taking  the  foot-track  which  leads  up  through  the 
valley.  He  had  no  sooner  entered  the  dale  than  he  saw  the 
small  crouching  form  of  a  woman  before  him,  and  he  at  once 
knew  that  it  was  she  whom  he  sought. 

He  went  up  to  her.  But  she  heard  him  coming,  and  came 
toward  him  and  said,  sadly:  "  It's  no  good.  I  have  too  long 
neglected  it  all,  or  else  I'm  grown  too  old  and  dull  for  it." 

He  laid  his  arm  around  her  shoulder,  and  took  her  with  him. 
"  Come  back  home  at  once,  Wieten.  You'll  get  wet  through. 
Here,  let  me  lay  my  coat  over  your  head.    That's  it." 

She  walked  along  at  his  side,  with  bent  body  and  weary 
steps.  "  In  times  gone  by,"  she  said,  with  shamefast  voice, 
"  when  I  was  a  little  girl  all  these  things  were  full  of  life  for 
me;    but  now  they've  all  gradually  perished." 

"What  were  you  trying  to  do?" 

"  I  don't  know.  I  wanted  to  see  for  once  whether  I  could 
really  get  anything  out  of  it ;  but  everything  looked  at  me 
with  cold,  dead  eyes." 

"  There  is  nothing  in  it,  Wieten !  " 

For  a  time  they  said  no  more.  He  had  his  arm  around  her 
shoulder,  and  led  her  over  the  dry  spots  of  the  damp  path. 

"  It  comes  from  people  losing  their  belief  in  such  things," 
she  said.  "You  know  that  yourself;  when  one  has  lost  in- 
terest in  sun  and  moon  and  stars,  they  have  no  more  messages 
for  one;  and  when  one  ceases  to  trouble  about  one's  house, 
it  falls  to  ruin.  It's  the  same  with  everything.  Indifference 
will  kill  anything,  and  love  gives  life  to  everything.     I  have 


JORN     UlIL  321 

forgotten  these  things  too  long,  and  they're  all  rusted  with  long 
lying." 

"  But  you  must  not  lose  courage,  Wieten,  for  all  that." 

"  Well,  do  you  see,  Jorn  .  .  .  this  afternoon  when  1  found 
you  down  there  in  your  garden-house,  I  thought  to  myself: 
'  If  that  happens,  what  will  become  of  everything?'  And  so, 
in  my  terror,  1  hurried  here." 

"  Wieten,  these  things  won't  help  us.  Heath  and  water, 
wind  and  rain  —  why,  those  are  things  still  more  helpless 
than  man  himself.  That's  no  place  for  man  to  go  and  look 
for  help." 

"Don't  say  that,  Jorn;  there  lies  a  mystery  behind  this 
h'fe  of  ours.  We  don't  live  for  the  sake  of  this  life,  but  for 
the  sake  of  the  mystery  behind  it.  And  it  must  be  possible 
to  unriddle  the  mystery,  and  the  man  who  unriddles  it  has 
light  and  truth.  And  in  these  holy  old  things  and  their  legends, 
I  should  say  it  is  to  be  easiest  found.  From  as  long  as  men 
can  remember  that's  where  our  forefathers  have  looked  for  it, 
and  some  of  them  have  found  it." 

"  'V'es,  Wieten,  there  you're  right.  What  you  say  about 
the  mystery  I  believe  is  right.  But  1  don't  believe  we'll  ever 
find  it  out  or  solve  it.  It's  like  a  man  trying  to  leap  over 
himself.  Man  just  remains  man,  the  same  as  an  ash  remains 
an  ash,  and  our  ignorance  and  blindness  in  these  things  goes 
without  saying,  just  because  we  are  men.  For  all  I  know, 
the  secret's  open,  broad,  and  living,  and  is  here,  lying  or 
standing,  laughing  or  weeping,  all  around  about  us.  But  we 
have  no  organ  or  sense  by  which  to  see  or  hear  it." 

"Maybe,  maybe,"  she  said,  sadly  and  thoughtfully;  "hut 
we  must  just  go  on  working  away  till  evening  falls,  and  always 
be  as  kind  and  loving  as  we  can." 

"  Right,  Wieten.     That's  in  the  New  Testament." 

She  raised  her  head  a  little  as  she  walked  along  beside  him. 

"What?  That's  in  the  New  Testament?  What  does  it 
say,  then,  about  —  you  know,  Jorn  —  the  secret?" 

"  Well,  as  far  as  I  can  make  out,  Wieten,  it  says  we  won't 
get  behind  it  here.  But  we're  to  have  faith  that  everything 
has  an  aim  and  an  inner  meaning.  And  afterward,  after 
death,  we'll  get  on  a  bit  further,  and  come  behind  the  secret, 
and  see  things,  not  as  they  appear,  but  as  they  are." 

"Well,  well!     And  that's  what  Christ  says!     It  astonishes 


322  JORN     UHL 

me.  And  it  must  be  as  you  say.  But  from  a  child  I've  always 
been  so  hungry  for  knowledge.  I  always  wanted  to  know 
what  was  the  real  meaning  of  this  life  of  ours.  I  remember 
when  I  was  in  service  with  Jorn  Stuhr  in  Schenefeld  I  never 
did  anything  but  try  to  fossick  it  out.  But  we  could  never 
find  anything.  And  then  Hans  Stuhr  got  drowned  in  the 
IVIergelkuhle."     And  she  began  to  weep. 

"  It's  no  good  searching,  Wieten.  I  think  Christ  Himself 
said  that  even  He  didn't  know  everything.  He  said  it  wasn't 
necessary  for  us  to  know  it.  Only  we  should  always  have  faith 
and  keep  pure  and  loving  hearts.  He  was  against  all  brood- 
ing and  bitterness,  and  against  all  haughtiness  and  the  wish 
to  know  everything,  and  against  all  hating  and  hardness  of 
heart.     '  Have  faith,'  He  said,  '  and  be  pure  and  merciful.'  " 

"  Well,  I  suppose  we  can  have  faith  in  what  He  says,  for 
He  was  clever  and  kind,  and  there's  no  doubt  that  He  tried 
to  do  what  was  best,  and  died  for  it  while  He  was  quite  young, 
so  we  must  e'en  hold  fast  to  what  He  says,  Jorn,  and  see 
how  it  turns  out." 

"  Yes,  Wieten,  so  we'll  just  stand  firm  together,  and  keep 
a  stiff  neck,  you  dear  old  soul." 

And  after  bringing  her  as  far  as  the  kitchen  door,  the 
desire  came  over  him  to  go  and  walk  awhile,  bareheaded,  in 
the  cool  air.  .  .  .  The  rain  had  ceased  and  there  was  no  wind. 
As  he  got  farther  away  from  the  farm  the  last  sounds  which 
broke  the  stillness  of  the  autumn  evening  died  away.  In 
his  reverie  he  approached  Ringelshorn  and  climbed  the  slope, 
walking  slowly  and  aimlessly  straight  away  over  the  heath, 
that  lay  gray,  dark,  and  desolate  around  him.  Gradually  day 
put  out  its  last  light,  so  that  he  saw  nothing  but  night  around 
him. 

Once  more  he  fell  into  pensive  brooding  over  the  past  and 
over  his  future;  and  as  he  got  deeper  into  the  heath,  it  seemed 
to  him  to  rise  up  on  both  sides  of  him  in  gloomy  heights, 
crested  with  tall,  dark  fir-trees,  and  as  though  he  himself 
were  walking  in  a  deep  valley.  And  it  was  so  lonely  and  so 
dark,  and  dead,  and  he  came  into  such  depths  that  he  was 
almost  as  terrified  as  he  had  been  before  in  the  garden-house. 
And  visions  almost  material  filled  his  soul  with  fear.  His 
brother  Hinnerk,  with  angry  face,  went  by  not  far  from  him; 
and  Lena  Tarn  went  past  as  though  she  did  not  know  him; 


JORN     UHL  323 

and  Geert  Dose  stood  there  with  blood-stained  clothes,  and 
many  another  form  passed  by  him,  wanderin^^  and  restless  and 
sad.  And  the  visions  and  the  landscape  through  which  they 
went  were  distorted  and  shuddering.  But  as  he  thus  went  on 
through  the  land  of  grief,  in  great  and  fearful  solitude,  — 
yet  not  without  a  secret  satisfaction  like  a  child  in  terror  at 
ghosts,  —  he  suddenly  thought  on  the  saying  he  himself  had 
repeated  not  long  since,  that  one  should  have  faith  in  the 
triumph  of  the  good,  come  \\  hat  maj.  And  immediately  after 
he  had  thought  that  the  darkness  grew  less  dense,  and  the 
forms  around  him  moved  more  quietly  and  assumed  a  kindlier 
demeanor,  and  he  saw  a  narrow  ]i'irh  leading  upwards,  passing 
first  between  lofty  fir-trees  tliat  stood  there  like  haughty  men, 
so  that  he  was  abashed  at  their  presence,  and  struck  his  stick 
firmer  into  the  ground,  and  walked  with  head  thrown  back 
and  more  courageously.  A  puff  of  cool  wind  sprang  up  and 
strengthened  him,  and  he  again  came  out  on  the  level  heath 
and  clearly  perceived  the  line  on  the  horizon  where  the  heath 
stops  and  the  road  leads  down  to  the  marsh-lands.  There  he 
stood  still  and  listened. 

And  while  he  stood  there  with  everything  so  still  around 
him,  no  sound  of  wind  or  cry  of  bird,  he  heard  from  far  away 
in  the  forest  a  dull  sound  as  of  a  mighty  pushing  and  swelling, 
or  as  though  with  slow,  measured  blows  multitudes  of  great 
hammers  were  thudding  upon  masses  of  wood  and  iron  ;  the 
thuds  sounded  so  ponderous  that  it  seemed  as  though  each 
beat  were  forging  a  whole  human  life.  And  from  the  forest 
came  the  sound  of  many  swift,  soft  footsteps,  like  the  rush- 
ing of  great  waters,  as  though  ten  thousand  messengers  were 
on  their  way,  with  biddings  and  commissions,  to  thrust  into 
the  hands  of  the  children  of  men. 

Awhile  he  stood  there,  listening  to  the  pulsing  of  those 
everlasting,  mysterious  powers.  Then  he  turned  and  walked 
toward  home  in  silent,  resolute  thought. 

As  he  entered  the  kitchen  to  see  where  Wieten  was,  she 
herself  met  him,  and  looked  up  at  him,  astonished  and  startled 
at  the  light  on  his  proud,  handsome  face. 

Next  day  at  noon  old  Whitehead  came  to  the  farm,  asking 
kindly  after  Jorn's  father;  and  afterward,  when  he  was  alone 
with  Jorn   in  the  little  room,  he  became  still  more  confiden- 


324  JORN     UHL 

tial,  and  proposed  tliat  the  young  farmer  should  secretly  deliver 
over  to  him  certain  quantities  of  corn  they  had  in  stock,  prom- 
ising that  he  wouldn't  let  Jorn  be  the  sufferer  by  it.  But  the 
latter  laughed  in  his  face. 

"  What  are  you  talking  about?  "  he  said.  "  Because  I've  got 
no  luck  am  I  to  be  a  swindler  into  the  bargain?  If  that's 
your  idea,  you're  on  the  wrong  track,  old  man ;  so  now  you 
can  clear  out,  and  as  fast  as  you  like." 

After  he  had  gone  Jorn  Uhl  peeped  into  his  father's  room  — 
speaking  to  Wieten  and  casting  a  glance  into  the  Bible  that 
lay  there  open.  When  he  saw  that  she  had  been  reading  about 
the  Eg>^ptian  plagues,  he  smiled  and  said  to  her,  "  You  can 
make  jour  mind  easy  on  that  head,  Wieten,  I've  just  hunted 
the  last  of  them  off  the  farm."  Then,  according  to  his  usual 
custom,  he  went  into  his  own  room  so  as  to  be  alone,  and 
thought  once  more  with  a  certain  obdurate  equanimity,  "  Well, 
now  there's  nothing  for  it  but  a  miracle." 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

But  no  miracle  happened.  What  happened,  on  the  con- 
trary, was  quite  in  the  ordinary  run  of  things.  There  was  a 
great  storm  and  there  was  a  death.  That  made  the  air  fresh 
and  clear  again,  and  freed  Jcirn  Uhl  from  the  last  of  the 
burdens  that  weighed  upon  his  heart. 

The  rain,  too,  went  by;  then  came  days  full  of  hot,  glaring 
sunshine ;  every  day  toward  evening  a  heavy  dark  cloud  gath- 
ered and  lay  over  there  toward  the  Elbe;  and  muttering 
and  growling  was  heard  in  the  distance.  Some  said  that  it 
was  men-o'-war  firing  their  guns  ofif  Cuxhaven,  but  older 
folk  knew  that  it  was  a  great  thunder-storm  brewing.  "  But  it 
can't  manage  to  get  over  the  Elbe,"  said  they.  On  the  evening 
of  the  third  day  everybody  thought  for  certain  it  was  coming. 
The  air  was  soft  and  expectant.  The  beasts  in  the  fields 
stopped  grazing  and  stood  waiting  by  the  hedges.  But  again 
nothing  happened. 

One  of  the  hands  from  a  neighboring  farm  rode  by  after 
vespers  to  the  smithy,  and  as  he  passed  he  shouted  out  to  the 
Uhl  girls,  \\  ho  were  standing  near  the  bakehouse,  "  I  say!  I 
dreamt  last  night  the  Uhl  was  on  fire!  I  dreamt  it  broke  out 
in  the  west  gable,  and  ran  along  the  rooftree  like  a  squirrel." 

Next  morning  there  was  great  excitement  in  the  house. 
It  was  Sunday,  and  Wietcn  had.  as  usual,  changed  her  linen 
on  Saturday  night,  and  had.  after  a  good  old  custom  in  those 
parts,  spread  the  left-off  garments  on  the  floor  beside  her 
bed.  Next  morning  she  found  ashes  strewn  where  the  clothes 
had  been.  The  farm-hands  and  maid  servants  clustered  to- 
gether, excitedly  discussing  the  matter  with  all  sorts  of  jest- 
ing ways  of  accounting  for  it;  while  the  maid  who  had  slept 
in  Wieten's  room  shook  her  head  and  wondered  how  it  was 
that  she  had  not  been  awakened  by  the  smell  of  fire.  Wieten 
went,  about  the  house  with  frightened  eyes,   without  a  word. 

32s 


326  J  O  R  N     U  H  L 

The  men  returned  to  their  work  and  brought  the  story  to  the 
village  that  same  evening. 

Thiess  Thiessen  had  once  more  come  back  from  Hamburg, 
and  was  staying  a  few  days  at  the  Uhl.  He  followed  Jorn 
about  the  whole  day  long,  trying  to  win  him  over  to  his  own 
way  of  thinking,  and  familiarize  him  with  the  thought  that  he 
would  have  to  give  up  the  Uhl. 

"  I'm  ready  to  help  you  with  a  few  thousand  marks,"  he  said; 
"  but,  as  you  know,  Jorn,  Haze  Farm  can't  stand  a  great  deal 
of  debt." 

"  I'm  not  going  to  let  you  help  me,"  said  Jorn  Uhl,  "  and, 
what's  more,  it's  not  so  easy  to  tear  oneself  away  from  the 
old  place  as  you  think.  Down  there  in  the  Easter  paddock 
yonder  I  started  ploughing  when  I  was  twelve  years  old. 
Why!  don't  I  remember  it  as  if  it  were  yesterday.  The 
plough-handles  jerked  me  from  one  side  to  the  other  till  my 
head  began  to  swim,  and  every  time  a  horse'd  stretch  out 
its  head,  it'd  drag  me  half  over  the  plough  with  it,  for  I  had 
the  reins  around  my  neck.  I  used  to  get  dead  tired  with 
fright  and  tramping  up  and  down  the  furrows." 

He  drew  his  little  son,  who  was  walking  by  his  side,  nearer  to 
him. 

"  And  later  on,  when  I  came  home  from  the  war  and  Lena 
Tarn  became  my  wife,  there  wasn't  a  single  post  in  the  house, 
not  a  single  lath,  not  a  single  reed  of  the  thatch,  that  I  didn't 
nod  to  and  greet  and  say  to  'em,  '  Oho,  now  you're  in  my 
good  keeping,  and  I'll  look  after  you.'  I  suppose  it  can't 
be  helped,  Thiess,  I'll  have  to  let  the  farm  go,  but  it  goes 
sore  against  the  grain.  I'm  throwing  all  Lena  Tarn's  toil 
and  trouble  to  the  wMuds.  It's  like  selling  her  merry  singing 
away  to  strangers,  and  all  the  bitter  years  that  came  after- 
ward. ...  I  can't  bear  to  talk  about  it.  And  then,  Thiess, 
what  if  Elsbe  came  back  to  seek  refuge  here  and  strange  folk 
were  to  open  the  door  to  her!  Yes,  I  know  I  must  leave,  for 
I  can  no  longer  pay  the  interest;  but,  as  I  said,  it  goes  sore 
against  the  grain." 

Next  morning  Thiess  went  away  again.  That  day  the  thun- 
der-storm came  up. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  a  lurid  cloud  lifted  itself  from  the 
sea  and  hung  above  the  marshes,  and  in  its  rage  began  hurl- 
ing straight  lightning,  like  golden  spears,  at  the  land  beneath. 


JORN     UHL  327 

Away  in  the  distance,  by  the  dikes,  a  fire  blazed  up.  The 
cloud  mounted  higher  and  came  nearer,  and  toward  seven  o'clock 
that  night  was  lowering,  full  to  bursting,  right  over  the  village 
of  St.  Mary's.  The  men  who  had  been  working  in  the  fields 
made  haste  home.  The  women  of  the  village  stood  in  their 
doorways  and  said  to  their  husbands,  "  It's  a  good  thing  you're 
back  home."  The  children,  too,  ran  in  from  their  play  and 
took  shelter  in  their  doorways.     Then  the  storm  burst. 

"  Did  you  hear  that?  " 

"  Yon  house  has  been  struck!  " 

People  went  out  and  looked  about  and  said  to  one  another, 
"  There's  nothing  to  be  seen."  Next  moment  it  began  to 
pour.  The  mighty  cloud  broke  and  parted,  and  changed  to 
pale  gray,  covering  the  whole  sky.     Nothing  had  happened. 

"What  did  I  tell  ye,  Wieten?"  said  an  old  ploughman. 
''  The  story  about  that  smock  of  yours  .  .  ." 

"Just  you  hold  your  whist!  "  said  Wieten. 

Wieten  went  back  to  the  kitchen,  and  the  ploughman 
climbed  up  the  ladder  into  the  loft  to  throw  down  some  hay. 
Then  Jorn's  little  son  came  running  in  with  his  five-year-old 
playmate,  and  burst  out,  "  Kasscn,  we  want  to  come  up  too." 

"  But  you  know  you  mustn't,  laddie,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  Oh,  gammon!    We're  coming,  for  all  that." 

They  climbed  the  ladder  after  him,  and  clambered  over  the 
sloping  piles  of  hay  till  they  were  right  at  the  top. 

"  That's  the  style,"  said  the  youngster;  "  now  we  can't  get 
any  further.  Come  here  while  I  lift  you  and  have  a  look 
through  the  owlet  hole." 

Soon  afterward  they  came  down  again,  and  the  old  plough- 
man said,  "Well?     Have  you  had  enough  of  it?" 

It  grew  on  toward  eight  o'clock,  and  Wieten  sent  the  little 
fellow  to  bed. 

"I  say,"  he  said  to  her,  "do  you  know  what?  I've  been 
up  in  the  very  top  of  the  hay-loft.     Mc  and  Fritz  Hansen." 

"What!     Hasn't  your  father  forbidden  you  to  do  that?" 

"  Oh,  but  you  won't  say  a  word,  Wieten,  if  I  tell  you  some- 
thing? " 

"  What  can  you  have  to  tell  me,  child?  " 

"  Why,  Fritz  Hansen  was  right  up  at  the  very  top,  just 
where  the  little  window  in  the  roof  is,  and  what  do  you 
think?     There  was  a  great  big  black  cat  lying  there!     As  big 


328  JORN     UHL 

as  a  calf.  It  had  two  eyes  like  balls  of  fire,  and  came  creeping 
toward  him." 

"  Now  lie  down  and  go  to  sleep,  child,"  she  said,  and  went 
out  and  spoke  with  Jorn  Uhl. 

"  Jorn,  have  you  never  heard  that  lightning  can  lie  in  a 
house  for  hours  before  breaking  out?  That  was  a  frightful 
clap  of  thunder,  and  the  child  talks  such  strange  things.  Just 
set  my  mind  at  ease  by  looking  around  the  hay-loft.  I'm  all 
of  a  tremble." 

Jorn  went  up  into  the  loft  and  walked  around  the  house 
and  barns  without  finding  anything  suspicious. 

It  was  getting  on  toward  ten  o'clock,  and  they  had  all  gone 
to  rest.  Then  the  Lightning  thought  the  time  had  come 
for  house  and  inmates  to  be  his,  and  got  up  and  went  forth 
noiselessly  on  his  path.  With  long  smooth  body,  bright  as  a 
well-used  spade,  he  wound  his  way  slowly  between  the  hay  and 
the  roof.  Wherever  he  stretched  out  his  thin  arms  to  grasp 
his  prey,  a  red  glow  began  to  swell  upwards.  And  when  he 
saw  that  the  flame  could  not  have  its  way  for  lack  of  air,  he 
crept  gliding  and  smouldering  toward  the  window.  The  barn 
window^  he  split  in  twain.  The  owl,  sitting  beneath  the  gable- 
eaves,  flew  off  with  a  loud  "  Oo-hoo!  " 

Wieten  had  got  up  and  had  stolen  out  of  her  room  along 
the  middle  corridor,  and  was  looking  through  the  door-panes 
out  into  the  big  hall.  Everything  was  dark  and  silent.  Then 
she  went  back  to  her  room  and  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed 
where  the  boy  was  sleeping,  and  listened. 

"  There  are  folk  asleep  in  the  house.  .  .  .  Four  in  this 
room  .  .  .  three  in  that  .  .  .  two  in  the  men's  room  .  .  .  and 
Jorn.  .  .  .  But  aren't  there  others  besides?  .  .  .  No,  that  must 
be  all,  though.  .  .  .  No,  I'm  sure  there  are  not.  The  child 
first.  And  don't  forget  the  old  man !  Ten  Christian  souls. 
.  .  .  Ten  .  .  .  ten.  Most  of  the  animals  are  out  in  the  pas- 
tures .  .  ."  Suddenly  she  heard  a  sound  from  the  big  hall,  and 
stood  bolt  upright  again. 

"  There  must  be  something  going  to  happen.  I'm  sure  there 
is.  I  feel  it  in  every  limb.  Perhaps  it's  the  thunder  that  has 
made  me  so  excited.  Perhaps  it's  something  else."  She  stood 
up,  listening,  with  body  bent  forward. 

"  Hist!  hist!  ...  I  tell  you  there  are  noises  in  the  house. 
There's   a   sound    of   things   being   dragged    about   and    over- 


JORN     UHL  329 

turned  ;  they're  taking  their  odds  and  ends  away  with  them, 
cliains  and  pots  and  pans  and  all  .  .  ."  She  stole  toward  the 
tioor  again.  "  I  used  to  know  an  old  rhyme  once;  how  did  it 
run,  now? 

«« ♦  God  and  Peter  fare  through  the  shire, 
They  see  before  them  a  house  on  fire. 
«'  Fire,  thou  slialt  not  heat  beget, 
Fire,  thou  shalt  no  longer  sweat, 
Till  God's  dear  Mother  come  again, 
And  her  second  Son.  .  .  ."  '  " 

Before  she  had  finished  the  line,  as  she  opened  the  door  she 
heard  a  sound  of  crackling  from  the  big  hall  as  when  young 
wood  is  thrown  upon  a  roaring  fire. 

"  F'ire!  "  she  screamed.     "  Fire!  " 

The  girl  that  was  sleeping  in  the  room  raised  herself  sud- 
denly in  bed :  she  found  the  child  being  placed  in  her  arms. 
"Go,  and  take  the  boy  to  Jasper  Cray's;  go,  and  don't  look 
behind  you !  " 

"  Jorn,  Jorn!  .  .  ."  It  was  a  voice  that  might  have  waked 
the  dead. 

VV^hat  sudden  snatching  at  clothes  there  was,  what  fever  of 
brains,  what  hands  busying  themselves  hither  and  thither! 
And  after  it  is  all  over,  not  one  of  them  that  knows  what  they 
have  been  thinking  and  doing. 

Later  on  Jorn  could  never  tell  why  he  had  made  for  the 
old  chest  first,  and  how  he  had  managed  to  carry  off  the 
great  heavy  thing  that  had  neither  grip  nor  handle.  The 
first  thing  he  remembers  doing  was  running  into  the  bedroom, 
like  a  fireman  bursting  into  a  strange  house,  and  wrapping 
in  a  blanket  the  heavy-bodied  old  man.  who  struggled  and 
shouted  with  terror;  then  he  had  carried  him  out  into  the 
courtyard,  and  over  the  way  to  Jasper  Cray's  bedroom,  and 
laid  him  in  the  spare  bed  that  was  always  packed  up  on  the 
other  side  of  the  stove. 

Then  running  back,  w  ith  the  instinct  of  a  man  bred  in  the 
country,  he  had  made  for  the  stable,  cut  the  three  horses  loose, 
and  led  the  wild-eyed,  rearing  animals  out,  one  by  one. 

One  of  the  foals  was  in  a  bad  way.  Neither  the  stableman 
nor  the  neighbors  that  had  come  over  to  help  could  get  at  it; 


330  JORN     UHL 

but  there  was  a  door  that  had  not  been  opened  for  years.  Jorn 
suddenly  thought  of  it,  and  took  a  crowbar  which  happened 
to  be  I\ing  there  and  smashed  down  the  woodwork  with  a 
couple  of  blows,  and  succeeded  in  getting  the  animal  out. 

There  was  now  nothing  more  to  be  done.  As  he  was  about 
to  go  back  once  more,  in  spite  of  his  bleeding  hand  and  singed 
hair,  the  village  schoolmaster,  who  had  just  come  up,  barred 
his  way,  saying,  "  Your  life  is  of  greater  value." 

Then,  with  a  gesture  of  despair,  he  threw  the  knife  away, 
and  went  to  the  front  of  the  building,  so  as  not  to  hear  the 
piteous  lowing  of  the  cow  which,  with  its  new-born  calf,  was 
there  behind  the  flames. 

Struck  by  the  falling  thatch,  and  blinded  with  the  smoke 
which  poured  forth  from  the  big  barn,  he  had  to  stand  further 
off  from  the  buildings;  anon  he  approached  the  entrance.  The 
fire-engine  went  galloping  past  him  into  the  courtyard.  He 
saw  his  little  son  run  right  across  the  road  in  front  of  the 
horses,  and  heard  him  weeping  and  crying  as  he  came  up  to 
him  and  clutched  his  knees.  "  Father,"  he  sobbed,  "  is  the  foal 
burnt?  " 

Jasper  Cray  came  up  to  him,  his  hands  and  face  all  black, 
and  said,  "  We  have  saved  the  cow,  too,  by  the  back  way, 
through  the  kitchen  door  and  the  bakehouse,"  and  then  went 
away  again. 

Jorn  Uhl  stood  gazing  into  the  flames.  His  boy  stood  beside 
him. 

The  ceilings  of  the  front  house  were  already  bending  and 
twisting,  and  a  fiery  hand  was  clutching  at  the  proud  old  rooms 
of  the  Uhl.  It  knocked  at  the  doors  and  slid  its  fingers  along 
the  woodwork,  scorching  and  burning,  and  the  upper  lintels 
of  the  door  burst  open,  and  the  glowing  hand  snatched  at  the 
handle.  The  great  chandelier  fell  with  a  crash  on  the  table; 
the  table  was  afire;  and  suddenly  the  yellow  guest  was  up  on 
the  window-sill  with  a  catlike  leap,  lifting  the  curtains  and 
smashing  in  the  windows.  That  made  a  fresh  draught!  The 
whole  ceiling  fell  in,  and  the  night  sky  shone  through. 

In  this  hour,  when  the  great  rooms  of  the  Uhl  were  glow- 
ing in  red  fire,  and  the  shooting  flames  were  lighting  the 
night-dark  willows  that  lie  all  around  Wentorf,  death  came 
stalking  along  the  narrow  churchyard  path  that  runs  by  the 
side   of   the   river  Au.      By   leaving   the   bridge   at   the    foal- 


JORN     UHL  331 

paddock,  he  managed  to  keep  out  of  the  fireh'ght.  He  then 
made  straight  across  the  fields  in  the  direction  of  Jasper  Cray's 
house,  which  lay  low-roofed  and  humble  in  the  midst  of  the 
red  light  beneath  the  high,  brightly  gleaming  poplars.  Wieten 
Penn,  who  was  standing  by  the  bedside  waiting  for  him, 
her  eyes  wide  with  expectation,  stepped  aside  and  made  room 
for  him.  Up  to  the  bed  he  strode,  and  laid  his  hand  with  a 
firm  grasp  upon  the  shoulder  of  the  sleeping  man.  Twice  the 
body  twitciied  convulsively.     Then  the  breathing  ceased. 

And  Wieten  Penn  commenced,  v\ith  Trina  Cray's  help,  to 
do  what  was  left  to  be  done.  Hundreds  of  people  were  stand- 
ing and  passing  around  the  lofty  burning  buildings,  watching 
the  sinking  flames.  Hut  hardly  a  single  one  of  them  went  up 
to  Jorn  Uhl  and  his  child.  There  had  always  been  something 
strange  about  him,  something  taciturn  and  contemplative,  and 
a  touch  of  arrogance,  they  remembered. 

"  Now  that  he  was  at  his  wits'  end,  he  must  have  turned  to 
this  as  a  last  resource  and  set  his  own  house  on  fire." 

"By  the  Lord!  he's  standing  there  with  a  face  like  a 
criminal.     Look  at  him!     What  a  face!" 

"What  was  that  he  said  to  you?  ...  I  must  say,  I  never 
would  have  believed  it  of  him." 

"  What !  Are  you  going  to  talk  to  such  a  fellow  as  that  ? 
Why,  it's  clear  as  daylight.  .  .  .  ^'ou  know  what  I  mean." 

Especially  among  the  workmen  (who  are  always  inclined  to 
pick  upon  the  bad  in  their  master's  character,  and  be  blind 
to  what  is  good  in  him),  there  were  many  that  spoke  about 
him  in  this  tone.  He  had  indeed  always  been  close  and 
taciturn  toward  them,  and  almost  niggardly;  for  he  had 
always  been  worried  and  in  want  of  money. 

So  Jorn  Uhl  stood  for  hours  and  hours  out  there  beneath 
the  poplars  where  the  roadway  bends  around  toward  the 
barns.  There,  where  he  had  stood  that  evening  when  he 
came  home  from  the  war. 

But  when  midnight  was  past,  two  of  Hargen  Folken's  farm- 
hands came  up  and  said  that,  as  they  were  coming  home 
from  the  fields  that  evening,  just  when  the  terrible  thunder- 
bolt had  fallen,  they  had  plainly  seen  that  the  Uhl  was  struck. 
They  had  seen  a  wisp  of  something  burning  fly  up  from  the 
rooftree.  They  had  at  once  halted  and  had  waited,  expecting 
that   fire  would    break   out,   and   had   been   greatly   astonished 


2,3^  JORN     UHL 

when  this  did  not  happen.  The  stable-boj'  at  the  Uhl,  too,  said 
that  the  lightning  had  almost  thrown  him  down  when  he  was 
out  between  the  house  and  the  barn,  and  that  he  had  noticed 
a  slight  puff  of  smoke  around  the  gable  and  a  smell  of  burn- 
ing in  the  yard.  These  reports  soon  spread,  and  many  men 
and  women  came  ovar  to  Jorn  Uhl  and  told  him  what  they  had 
heard,  trying  to  solace  him  with  stories  of  other  houses  struck 
by  lightning,  and  with  their  words  of  cordial  sympathy. 

When  the  cold  of  early  morning  came,  they  scattered  toward 
their  homes. 

The  sky  was  growing  gray  when  Jorn  Uhl  went  across  the 
way  to  Jasper  Cray's.  A  few  stars  were  still  shining  high  up 
in  the  sky  like  tired  bright  eyes  in  a  face  pale  with  much 
watching.  When  he  entered  the  doorway  Wieten  stood  before 
him  and  barred  his  path.  But  he  saw  far  away  over  her 
small  body,  and  his  eyes  rested  on  the  candles  around  the  bier 
and  the  other  preparations.  He  put  her  gently  aside,  and, 
going  up  to  the  bed,  looked  at  his  father  for  a  long  time. 
Then  he  crossed  over  to  Wieten  and  took  her  hand  and  held 
it  fast  within  his  own  for  awhile,  saying  in  a  voice  subdued  and 
quiet,  "  It's  a  good  thing  for  me  this  night  that  my  old  Wieten 
is  still  alive." 

The  second  day  afterward,  after  he  had  taken  all  the 
necessary  steps  in  connection  with  the  burial  and  the  fire, 
he  went  up  to  Ringelshorn  toward  evening  and  sat  down 
upon  a  stone  that  lay  by  the  sandy  wayside  in  the  gray  and 
long-haired  grass,  and  breathed  deep  and  free,  letting  his 
thoughts  wander  whither  they  would,  wondering  at  the  rest- 
fulness  and  beauty  of  the  world  around  him. 

After  sitting  there  for  a  long  time,  he  heard  a  vehicle  com- 
ing around  the  hill.  The  driver  was  talking  to  himself  and 
his  horses.  "  Now  we'll  have  a  trot  for  a  bit.  Trot,  all  of 
you!  The  Uhl's  burnt  down  and  Klaus  Uhl  is  dead,  and 
this  is  the  end  of  a  chapter  in  Jorn  Uhl's  life,  and  as  for  the 
rest  of  it,  I  tell  you  —  Holloa,  Jorn !  Is  that  you  ?  And 
you've  still  got  a  laugh  left  in  you?  " 

"Thiess!  "  said  Jorn.  ..."  Let's  first  bury  the  dead  as  is 
seemly.     Then  I'll  be  able  to  tell  how  I  feel." 

After  the  funeral,  when  the  long  cortege  of  the  Uhls  and 
their   kinsmen   had   left   the   churchyard    and    the   mould   had 


JORN     UHL  333 

been  shovelled  into  the  grave,  Jorn  Uhl  and  Thiess  Thiessen 
and  the  little  lad  came  back  from  Lena  Tarn's  tomb  to  see 
the  family  grave  of  the  Uhl.  The  new  mound  was  piled 
high  with  wreaths.  "  Do  you  know,  Jorn,"  said  Farmer 
Thiess,  "  what  I  took  most  amiss  in  this  man?  Not  his  squan- 
dering of  money,  nor  his  boozing  and  carousing,  but  his 
laughter.  The  way  he  had  —  a  laugh  for  everybody,  except 
my  poor  sister!  There  are  not  a  few  men  like  that,  Jorn 
Uhl,  who  are  kind  toward  strangers  and  the  people  they 
meet  in  the  street  and  the  tavern,  and  are  very  devils  in  their 
own  homes.  It's  a  good  thing,  Jorn,  that  there's  such  a  thing 
as  Death,  for  in  Death  lies  the  only  pledge  of  some  sort  of 
justice.  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  this  man  remains  unpun- 
ished after  having  tortured  my  dear  sister  that's  dead,  and 
let  the  farm  go  to  rack  and  ruin,  while  he  rollicked  and  idled 
about  the  country?  I  tell  you,  Jorn,  he'll  have  to  plough 
precious  hard  in  the  country  he's  gone  to  now.  He'll  get 
a  good  tough  piece  of  marsh-land  for  his  portion  up  there, 
and  four  old  spavined  nags  to  plough  with,  up  to  all  sorts 
of  tricks,  and  the  biggest  rogue  among  the  angels  for  a  plough- 
boy.  Just  look  there,  my  sister  hasn't  got  a  single  wreath !  " 
He  stooped  down,  picked  up  two  wreaths,  and  laid  them  on 
his  sister's  grave. 

"  Jorn,  she  was  the  mirthfullest  and  unselfishest  little  thing 
in  the  whole  world.  When  she  was  a  child  she'd  just  sit  on 
one  corner  of  a  tree-stump,  right  at  the  side,  so  that  she  was 
almost  hanging  from  it,  and  say,  '  Sit  down,  Thiess,  see 
what  lots  of  room  there  is,'  —  she  was  that  unselfish!  She 
asked  nothing  from  life  but  a  nice,  comfortable  little  spot 
where  she  could  sit  in  the  sun.  This  fellow  here  refused  it  her. 
He  made  her  sit  all  her  life  long  in  dark  and  gloomy  places." 
He  took  up  another  wreath  and  laid  it  on  his  sister's  grave. 

"  Jorn  ...  if  she  could  get  up,  this  gentle  soul  "  —  he  took 
up  two  more  wreaths  —  "  she'd  say,  *  Go  away  from  the  farm, 
Jorn,  dear;  go  to  the  Haze  this  ver>'  day.  .  .  .  Give  up  the 
Uhl,  Jorn ;  the  Uhl  has  made  you  poor  and  ill.  Come  home 
with  me  to  the  home  of  your  mother.  I  believe  you'll  get 
better  there.  .  .  .'  So  come  with  me,  Jorn.  I  ask  you  in 
your  mother's  name.  And  you,  too,  little  laddie,  help  me 
to  coax  him.    Will  you  come  with  me  to  the  Haze?     Eh?  " 


334  JORN     UHL 

"I  say,  father,"  said  the  youngster,  "let's  go!  That'll  be 
just  grand." 

"  Jorn,  the  three  of  you  had  better  jump  up  into  my  cart, 
you  and  the  lad  and  Wieten.  And  we'll  put  the  old  chest 
behind  the  back  seat  in  the  straw.  Then  you'll  have  every 
mortal  thing  that  >ou  own  in  the  one  cart!  " 

Jorn  turned  a  little  and  cast  a  long  glance  away  over  toward 
Lena  Tarn's  grave. 

"  Just  think  of  the  old  chest,  Jorn ;  your  good  clothes  are 
in  it,  and  the  telescope  and  the  chart  of  the  sun  and  moon 
and  all  the  stars,  and  the  puzzling  old  books,  and  the  old 
carved  piece  of  my  grandmother's  mangle  —  old  Trienke 
Thiessen's,  whose  maiden  name  was  Sturmann.  At  least,  I 
suppose  you  have  the  mangle-piece,  Jorn ;  if  you  haven't,  Peter 
Voss  of  Vaale  has  it.  .  .  .  All  these  things,  Jorn,  both  us 
and  the  chest  will  be  yours,  if  you  drive  home  with  me  to 
the  Haze,  Here  it  was  but  a  part  of  the  Uhl  and  its  worries; 
there,  at  the  Haze,  it  will  belong  to  you.  Oh,  Jorn,  laddie, 
I  beg  you  to  come  with  us!  I  beg  you,  Jorn.  Pluck  your 
soul  out  of  the  Uhl  and  keep  it  for  your  own  use.  Now  do, 
dear  Jorn,  come  along  with  me!  Else,  I  tell  you  straight 
out,  I  should  always  be  in  terror  about  you." 

Jorn  Uhl  said  nothing,  but  breathed  heavily,  looking  away 
toward  Lena  Tarn's  grave,  or  anon  at  the  graves  at  his  feet. 
The  three  graves  spoke  with  loud  voices. 

After  they  had  stood  motionless  awhile,  Thiess  said,  "  Now, 
come,  we'll  go  and  lay  these  other  three  wreaths  on  Lena 
Tarn's  grave,  one  for  each  of  us." 

"Lena  Tarn,"  said  the  child,  "who  is  that?  Lena  Tarn? 
Why,  she's  my  mother!  " 

"  Yes,  laddie.     Ah!    and  what  a  mother  she  was!  " 

Next  morning  Jorn  Uhl  called  the  farm-servants  and  dairy- 
maids before  him,  and  paid  each  of  them  the  sum  due  for 
wages.  Then  he  went  to  the  tradesmen  and  paid  the  small 
accounts  he  owed  them;  and  when  he  saw  their  look  of 
astonishment,  he  said  in  his  short,  abrupt  way,  "  I  don't  want 
you  to  be  kept  running  about  after  your  money  afterward, 
or  to  have  you  cheated  out  of  it  altogether."  Then  they 
understood  him,  and  swept  the  money  quickly  into  their  tills, 
and   accompanied   him   to   the   door,   and   called   out   to   their 


JORN     UHL  335 

wives  to  come  and  look  at  hiin  as  he  stalked  away  down  the 
street,  beneath  the  lindens,  with  haughtier  and  straighter  gait 
than  they  had  seen  him  walk  before.  Then  he  returned  to 
the  ruins  the  fire  had  left,  and  stood  once  more  by  the  black- 
ened, half-fallen  walls,  not  far  from  the  kitchen  door,  where 
he  had  often  stood ;  for  from  there  a  man  can  see  far  ami 
wide  over  the  corn-lands  of  the  Uhl. 

As  he  stood  there,  Thiess  Thiesscn  came  stumbling  up  to 
him  through  the  dust  and  rubble,  with  his  coat  on  and  the 
whip  in  his  hand.  "  Little  Jiirgen  is  sitting  on  the  old  chest 
in  the  cart,  dangling  his  legs  in  the  straw,  and  Wieten  is  just 
tucking  him  up  with  a  brown-striped  shawl.  .  .  .  How  do 
you  feel,  laddie?  That's  right!  That's  the  way  I  like  to  see 
you  look." 

"  Thiess,"  said  Jorn  Uhl,  turning  toward  him,  "  I've  done 
with  it.  I'm  going  to  let  the  Uhl  go,  and  all  its  cares  and 
worries  with  it.  .  .  .  For  fifteen  years  I  haven't  had  a  single 
Sunday  to  myself — I  believe  I've  been  a  poor,  unfortunate 
fool.  .  .  .  But  now,  faith,  I  n^an  really  to  try  and  do  what 
you  said  yesterday  —  get  back  my  soul  that  I've  buried  here 
in  the  Uhl.  I'll  have  it  back,  I  say.  It's  mine,  I  tell  you. 
.  .  .  Come,  let's  be  off,  Thiess." 

His  little  son  was  sitting  on  the  old  chest,  and  Wieten  was 
stooping  near  the  cart.  "  Father,"  said  the  boy,  "  what  were 
you  shouting  about?  Were  you  scolding,  or  were  you  laugh- 
ing at  somebody?  " 

"  Both,"  said  Jorn  Uhl.  ..."  Come  here,  Wieten,  let  me 

help  you  up  .  .  .  you  were  going  to  say  something,   weren't 

"i  " 
you : 

She  looked  at  him  thoughtfully  with  her  grave,  dark  eyes. 
"  I  was  thinking  of  the  story,  Jorn,  of  the  man  who  spent  a 
hundred  years  among  the  little,  swarthy  earthmen.  and  came 
back  an  old  man.  There's  a  deal  of  truth  in  those  old  stories, 
after  all,  Jorn." 

"Yes,  Wieten!"  he  said,  and  he  shook  as  if  a  shiver  ran 
through  him. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

When  the  west  wind  begins  to  blow  softly  over  the  woods 
that  still  lie  covered  with  snow  and  hard  frost,  a  long  sound 
of  crackling  and  splintering  is  heard  among  the  pines.  It 
is  as  if  nothing  will  bend  and  everything  will  have  to  break. 
But  the  soft  breezes  creep  in  and  slide  around  all  the  hard 
ice-crystals  with  their  blandishment  and  their  coaxing  caresses, 
and  it  turns  out  that  these  softer  ways  at  last  prevail  and 
triumph  all  over  the  earth.  Everywhere  love  triumphs.  The 
clink  and  clash  and  rattle  of  warlike  weapons  ceases.  The 
icicles  lower  their  bright  lances ;  their  coats  of  armor  melt. 
Their  eyes  fill  with  tears,  and  they  sink  into  the  arms  of 
the  soft  air.  And  when  a  man  walks  through  the  forest,  he 
hears  a  sound  of  slipping  and  falling,  and  whisperings  in 
mysterious  monotones  as  in  dreams. 

It  is  a  beautiful  thing  to  behold  and  hear,  the  thawing  of 
a  forest.  But  more  beautiful  still  is  it  to  be  by  at  the  thawing 
of  the  heart  of  a  man. 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  day  following,  Thiess  Thiessen 
was  standing  by  Jorn  Uhl's  bed,  saying,  "  You've  made  a 
good  start  at  being  a  Thiessen,  J5rn ;  you've  slept  eighteen 
hours  at  a  single  stretch." 

"Where's  my  boy?"  Jorn  asked. 

He  was  there  already.  "  Father,  you've  slept  as  sound  as  a 
hedgehog.  I've  been  here  ten  times  to  see  if  you  were  awake 
—  seven  times  all  by  myself,  and  three  times  with  Thiess!  " 

"There  you  are!"  said  Thiess.  "Fine  reports  of  you  on 
all  sides.  ...  I  drove  into  Saint  Mariendonn  this  morning. 
The  smith  hadn't  been  paid  for  the  last  spade  you  got,  so  I 
gave  him  a  crown." 

Jorn  Uhl  sat  up.  "  And  I  haven't  got  a  groat  to  pay  you 
back  with,  Thiess!  " 

336 


JORN     UHL  337 

"What!     Beginning  to  worry  again?" 

Jorn  laughed  as  he  flung  himself  back  on  the  pillow. 

"  I'll  take  precious  good  care  I  don't.  Everything's  safe! 
Father  and  the  Uhl  and  this  little  lad  and  Wieten!  And  no 
debts  to  pay  and  not  a  black  look  from  any  one.  Everytliing 
straightforv\ard  and  simple.  As  simple  as  a  slice  of  black 
bread.     You've  got  to  keep  us  here  for  the  present." 

"That's  clear!  You  stay  here  and  we'll  live  cosily  together 
and  see  what  turns  up." 

"Thank  you,  Thiess.  I'll  think  matters  over  and  see  what's 
to  be  done." 

Next  morning  he  went  to  Saint  Mariendonn  on  foot,  and 
talked  over  his  position  with  the  town-bailie,  a  quiet  and 
sensible  man,  telling  him  that  he  didn't  intend  to  touch  the 
farm  again.  If  old  Whitehead  didn't  like  to  take  the  estate 
over  in  exchange  for  the  debts  on  it,  why  —  he  would  have  to 
be  declared  bankrupt,  he  said.  He  didn't  want  a  penny  from 
it;  but  he  didn't  want  a  load  of  debts  either,  to  begin  his 
new  life  with.  He  had  long  enough  had  cares  and  debts  that 
were  heavy  enough  to  bear ;  for  years  and  years  he  had  had 
a  weight  on  his  conscience,  a  feeling  as  if  he  had  a  board  on 
his  breast  whereon  was  written  in  big  letters,  "  This  man 
has  many  debts."  To  himself  he  had  seemed  like  a  man  damned 
and  accursed.  "  But  now  my  heart  is  light  and  glad,"  he 
said. 

The  bailie  smiled  to  think  of  this  new  Jorn  Uhl,  after  the 
one  of  old  who  had  been  so  glum  that  you  couldn't  get  a  word 
out  of  him,  but  who,  now  that  he  had  lost  everything,  talked 
so  frankly  and  open-heartedly,  and  expressed  the  hope  that 
the  farm  might  find  a  good  purchaser,  seeing  that  the  land 
was  in  such  high  cultivation  and  good  condition.  At  last 
they  agreed  that  Jorn  Uhl,  on  Thiess  Thiessen's  security, 
should  retain  two  of  his  horses  —  two  riding-hacks  that  Lena 
Tarn  had  greatly  admired  as  foals,  and  that  were  now  tall, 
eight-year-old  geldings,  clean-limbed  Holstein  thoroughbreds. 

When  he  was  back  in  the  village  street,  he  swung  his  yellow 
oak  walking-stick  merrily  as  he  walked  along,  stirring  up  the 
fallen  leaves  of  the  lindens  that  lay  all  over  the  pathways. 
And  when  he  caught  sight  of  the  schoolhouse  in  the  distance, 
almost  hidden  among  thickets  and  lindens,  his  eye  sought  out 
the  window  behind  which  he  had  once  tried  to  learn  English; 


33^  JORN     UHL 

and  as  he  saw  the  garden,  he  thought  to  himself,  "  Lisbeth 
Junker  will  soon  be  back  now.  She'll  wonder  when  she  sees 
the  Uhl  burnt  down,  and  finds  ue're  no  longer  there.  That 
was  good  of  her  to  come  over  to  the  Uhl  every  year  when 
she  was  visiting  at  the  schoolhouse.  A  mighty  fine  girl  she  is, 
and  bright  as  a  new  threepenny  bit." 

He  walked  nearer,  and  looked  over  the  fence.  The  whole 
garden  was  bright  with  light,  and  rich  and  glad  with  color. 
The  vine-leaves  on  the  wall  shimmered  and  shone  in  the 
bright  October  sunlight.  A  soft  wind  ever  and  anon  whirled 
the  reds  and  greens  and  j'ellows,  and  mingled  them  in  the 
sunlight.  But  in  all  this  gay  splendor,  in  the  midst  of  the 
crimson  leaves  of  the  vines,  he  beheld  a  peculiar  spot  which, 
among  all  this  restful  play,  kept  moving  restlessly  up  and 
down.  It  was  a  girl  sitting  among  the  vines,  shelling  beans, 
and  something  had  flown  down  her  neck,  and  she  could  not 
see  whether  it  was  a  leaf  or  a  caterpillar,  and  there  she  stood, 
shaking  herself,  with  the  light  dancing  like  a  sprite  on  her 
fair  hair  and  around  her  eyes. 

"  Hold  on!  "  cried  Jorn  Uhl,  "  I'll  lend  you  a  hand."  And 
ere  she  was  aware  of  it  there  he  was  bending  over  her  and 
saying,  "  There's  nothing  to  be  seen  but  a  whole  host  of  little 
flaxen  curls." 

She  looked  at  him  with  wondering,  beaming  ejes. 

"  Oh,  Jiirgen,"  she  said,  "  what  a  fright  you  gave  me!  and 
how  happy  it  makes  me  to  see  you  looking  so  well !  You 
poor  old  Jorn.  Now  you've  lost  your  father,  too,  and  the 
whole  Uhl  is  burnt  down !  " 

He  nodded.  "  We're  not  going  to  talk  about  that,"  he 
said;  "  that's  past  and  done  with.  I'm  ever  so  glad,  Lisbeth, 
that  I  caught  sight  of  you.     How  long  have  you  been  here?  " 

"  Since  last  night.  I  wanted  to  finish  the  beans,  and  then 
I  was  going  over  to  the  Uhl  to  see  whether  I  could  find  you 
and  your  little  son.  And  how  have  you  been  getting  on, 
Jiirgen?" 

Then  he  told  her,  in  his  thoughtful  way,  about  his  brother 
and  his  father  and  about  the  mice  in  the  corn,  and  the  agree- 
ment he  had  made  with  the  bailie.  And  she  comforted  him 
with  words  of  sympathy. 

"  What  I'm  going  to  do  now,"  said  he,  "  I  don't  exactly  see." 

"  Oh,"    she    said,    "  you'll    easily    find    something,    Jiirgen. 


JORN     UHL  339 

You're  a  good  worker,  and  30U  like  work,  and  then  you're 
so  clever,  too.     So  just  don't  worry  about  that." 

The  sunlight  played  gay  pranks  among  the  leaves  and 
branches,  scattering  shadows  and  fire  and  color  about  every- 
where, and  sonic  of  it  fell  on  JiJrn  and  Lisbeth. 

He  was  astonished  to  hear  her  speak  to  him  in  this  tone. 
It  was  no  mere  compassion,  it  was  real  esteem,  and  it  pleased 
him  hugely.  Such  a  proud  and  bonnie  girl!  "No,"  he  said, 
"  I've  got  no  fears  for  the  future;  something  or  other  will 
crop  up.  I'm  going  to  live  a  few  weeks,  perhaps  the  whole 
winter  through,  without  letting  a  single  worry  come  near  me, 
and  then  I'll  decide  what's  to  be  done." 

"  That's  right,"  she  said.  ..."  Do  you  know  what,  Jiir- 
gen?  You  ought  to  come  and  pay  us  a  visit  in  Hamburg.  I'll 
show  you  the  city,  and  all  that's  in  it,  and  you  must  bring 
your  little  son  with  you.  Up  to  now  you've  known  nothing 
but  toil  and  labor.     Now,  what  do  you  say  to  that  ?  " 

Jorn  was  almost  beside  himself.  "  Shall  I  tell  you  something, 
Lisbeth  ?  " 

"  Do,  Jiirgen !  " 

"  That  is,  if  you  care  about  it,  and  if  it's  good  enough  for 
you  .  .  .  we  are  such  simple  people  over  here." 

"  Do  tell  me,  Jiirgen !  "  She  looked  at  him  with  her  big 
eyes  full  of  glad  anticipation. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  I  ought  to  venture  to  ask  you  to 
come  and  see  us  at  the  Haze.  But  we've  both  got  a  holiday, 
and  we  three  —  you  and  little  Jiirgen  and  me  —  will  have  the 
whole  day  long  to  do  just  what  we  like  with." 

"Oh!    Jorn.  .  .  ." 

"  And  if  you  like,  you  can  come  for  a  drive  with  us,  Lisbeth. 
I'd  like  to  go  and  see  an  old  comrade  of  mine  who  lives  over 
there  by  Burg.     That  is,  if  you  care  about  it.  .  .  ," 

Her  eyes  beamed  through  tears  of  joy. 

"Jiirgen,"  she  said,  ''  I'd  just  love  to!  If  you  really  and 
truly  want  me  to  come,  I'll  come  with  the  greatest  pleasure." 

He  was  astonished  at  her  delight,  and  his  spirits  rose  still 
higher. 

"Who'd  have  thought  you'd  be  so  pleased!  Rut  I  only 
hope  we  won't  be  too  plain  and  homely  for  you.  The  smoked 
hams  are   from   last  season,   and   the  dumplings  are  made  of 


340  J  O  R  N     U  H  L 

buckwheat,  and   I  don't  know  whether  we'll  be  able  to  find 
a  comfortable  bed  for  you  or  not." 

"  Oh!  "  she  said,  "  I  don't  care  a  jot  about  that.  You  don't 
know  how  glad  I  am!  You  don't  remember  how  unkind  you 
were  to  me  sometimes  when  I  came  to  see  you  at  the  Uhl, 
Jorn.  You  used  to  be  so  curt  and  cold,  as  though  it  was  all 
the  same  to  you  what  happened  to  me,  or  whether  I  thought 
this  or  that,  and  whether  I  was  in  trouble  or  not.  And  yet, 
we'd  been  playmates  as  children,  hadn't  we?  That's  what 
used  to  make  me  cry." 

"  What!  "  he  said,  "  you  used  to  cry?  And  for  such  a  thing 
as  that?  .  .  .  Lisbeth,  I  thought  it  was  only  out  of  mere 
politeness  that  you  came  to  visit  us!  I  fancied  you  came  out 
of  pity  for  me.  Instead  of  that,  it  was  from  me  that  you  wanted 
sympathy.  Lassie,  I  can't  believe  it.  And  how  gladly  I 
would  have  talked  over  everything  with  you!  If  I'd  only 
had  an  idea  of  it!  But  I  was  worried  and  bitter,  and  my  eyes 
were  covered  with  cobwebs.  I  always  fancied  you  were  so 
well  off  and  happy." 

"  Oh,  Jiirgen,  me  happy?  " 

"  If  it's  really  so,  Lisbeth,  and  you  want  something  from 
me;  if  I  can  really  help  you  .  .  .  then  .  .  .  why!  .  .  .  Lis- 
beth, wherever  I  am  ...  I  will  look  you  up,  and  any  difficulty 
you're  in,  you  can  alwa3'S  trust  to  me  to  help  you." 

"Can  I,  really?"  she  said,  eagerly,  clapping  her  hands. 
"  Oh,  how  glad  I  am  that  you  are  in  such  good  spirits  and 
talk  to  me  like  this!  " 

"That'll  be  splendid,  to-morrow!"  he  said.  "  Thiess  is 
coming  over  in  the  morning,  so  he  can  fetch  you.  My  boy 
and  I  will  be  in  ambush  somewhere  on  the  edge  of  the  woods, 
so  that  we  can  capture  you.  We'll  let  Thiess  find  his  way 
home  by  himself;  but  you'll  have  to  come  with  us  straight 
across  country.  I  want  to  show  the  little  chap  the  big  stones 
that  the  witch  threw.  Do  you  remember,  Lisbeth,  the  old 
witch  whose  hands  were  like  a  butcher's  trough." 

She  clapped  her  hands.  "  Jiirgen,"  she  said,  "  I  can't  tell 
you  how  glad  I  am  that  you're  in  such  good  spirits  and  so 
kind  to  me." 

Tears  stood  in  her  eyes. 

He  shook  his  finger  at  her  and  said,  roguishly,  "  You've 
still  the  same  piping  voice  as  you  used  to  have." 


JORN     UHL  341 

She  laughed.  "  Just  be  quiet,"  she  said  ;  "  you'll  see,  all  your 
old  faults,  too,  will  be  cropping  out  again,  now  you're  back 
here." 

;'Had  I  any?" 

"  What  conceit!  Why!  sometimes  your  thoughts  used  to  be 
all  sixes  and  sevens,  and  sometimes  you  would  be  too  hot- 
tempered,  and  sometimes  you  would  show  the  Uhl  side  of  your 
nature,"  she  said,  striking  her  hand  against  her  breast,  mimick- 
ing the  way  a  braggart  talks. 

"Oh!"  said  he,  "so  that's  the  sort  of  fellow  I  was.  And 
now  as  I  go  over  the  heath  I'll  try  to  think  what  you  used  to 
be  like,  too.  But  it's  time  for  me  to  be  off.  I  feel  ever  so 
much  better,  Lisbeth.  I'd  never  have  thought  that  you  were 
such  a  dear,  good  little  soul." 

"  Nor  I  that  you  would  be  so  gay  and  light-hearted  to-day." 

"That's  because  I'm  free  from  worry.  I  used  to  have 
nothing  but  heavy  tlioughts  before  —  thoughts  that  walked 
about  like  workmen  in  a  mill  staggering  under  the  heavy 
sacks  of  flour  they  carry  on  their  shoulders.  But  now  these 
same  thoughts  have  all  turned  into  grandees  and  go  about  in 
fine  clothes,  spying  out  pretty  maids  that  sit  under  vine  trellises. 
So  now,  good-by,  Lisbeth,  till  to-morrow." 

"  Good-by,  Jiirgen  ;    kiss  the  little  fellow  at  home  for  me." 

He  shook  hands  with  her  and  said  good-by.  She  followed 
him  with  her  eyes  till  he  was  out  of  sight.  Then  smiling 
and  thoughtful  she  slowly  gathered  her  beans  together.  But 
while  she  was  still  doing  so  —  was  it  because  something  else 
had  fallen  tlown  her  neck?  —  she  shook  herself  and  cried  out, 
"Marie,  Marie!"  Her  friend  came  running  out,  with  her 
child  in  her  arms,  and  asked  what  was  the  matter.  Then  she 
said,  "Oh!  do  you  know  who's  been  here?  Do  you  know 
who's  been  sitting  here,  right  on  this  seat?  And  has  been 
chatting  with  me  in  the  merriest  mood  in  the  world  ?  " 

"  You  surely  can't  mean  Jiirn  Uhl?  " 

Then  the  other,  the  fair-haired  maid,  nodded  and  laughed, 
and  ran  off  into  the  house. 

Next  day,  sure  enough,  there  she  was  sitting  in  the  cart 
beside  Thiess  and  looking  like  a  beautiful  young  rose-bush 
beside  a  little  dricd-up  elderberry-tree.  And  Thiess  laughed 
all  over  his  face  when  he  saw  Jorn  and  his  boy  standing  there 


342  J  O  R  N     U  H  L 

on  the  outskirts  of  the  wood.  She  did  not  want  to  get  down 
out  of  the  cart,  he  held  his  arms  so  high  and  made  such  a 
gloomy  face,  but  at  last  she  ventured. 

She  and  the  little  fellow  immediately  ran  off  together,  straight 
across  the  heath  to  the  Haze.  She  paid  no  heed  to  any  one 
but  him,  as  though  she  had  come  to  the  Haze  as  she  had 
formerly  done  to  the  Uhl,  only  to  have  a  look  at  the  little 
boy.  All  day  long  she  behaved  in  the  same  way.  Jorn  had 
meanwhile  strolled  over  to  the  moor  with  Thiess  to  see  how 
the  turf  was  getting  on.  When  he  came  back,  he  found  her 
still  playing  with  the  child.  I'hey  were  jumping  backwards 
and  forwards  over  a  ditch,  and  both  seemed  to  find  the  greatest 
delight  in  their  occupation.  When  he  came  up  to  them  she 
said  to  her  little  playfellow,  "  Time's  up  now,  I  must  go  and 
help  Wieten,"  and  ran  away  into  the  house  like  a  weasel  into 
its  hole  in  the  bank.  An  hour  later  he  met  her  in  the  front 
hall,  and  she  was  just  tying  a  cloth  around  her  head  and  saying 
she  was  "  going  to  help  Wieten  to  brush  down  the  walls  of  the 
kitchen,  which  were  simply  disgraceful."  That  was  a  little  too 
much  for  him.  He  caught  hold  of  her  good-humoredly,  turned 
her  around,  deliberately  untied  her  kerchief  and  apron  and 
threw  them  both  in  the  corner,  saying,  "  Now  we'll  go  over  to 
the  Haze  together." 

"  Little  Jiirgen  shall  come  too." 

"  Little  Jiirgen  shall  stay  where  he  is." 

She  pouted,  and  told  him  it  was  taking  rather  too  much 
for  granted  to  think  she  was  going  to  do  whatever  he  told  her. 

"Will  you  just  go  and  put  on  your  hat,  please?" 

"  No,  but  I  will  put  on  something  warmer." 

She  went  and  got  her  pretty  little  black  jacket  and  held  It 
out  toward  him.  He  put  his  stick  in  the  corner,  and  said, 
"  Now  tell  me  what  I'm  to  do." 

"  Don't  be  pretending.  You  can  hold  a  jacket  while  it  is 
being  put  on,  can't  you?  " 

"  I've  never  done  so  in  my  life,  either  for  man  or  woman. 
Goodness!  But  what  a  fine  little  coat!  And  lined  with  silk, 
too,  isn't  it?  I've  never  seen  such  a  thing  in  all  my  born  days. 
Well,  let's  try." 

She  had  now  put  it  on,  but  it  did  not  sit  properly  yet.  She 
twisted  herself  and  stretched  lier  arms,  trying  to  get  the  wide, 
roomy  sleeves  of  her  house-dress  into  the  jacket,  but  could  not. 


JC3RN     UHL  343 

"  Just  conic  here,"  he  said,  "  I'll  help  you." 

She  gave  another  twist.     "  It's  all  right  now,"  she  said. 

"  Do  you  see?  "  said  he.  "  \  ou're  just  the  same  as  you  were 
as  a  child.  It's  always  '  Touch  nie  not,'  always  hoity-toity 
and  proud.     An  Uhl  is  not  a  patch  on  you!  " 

"  Jiirgen,"  she  said,  and  her  eyes  looked  straight  and  re- 
proachfully at  him,  and  her  voice  was  clear  and  high.  "  I'm 
only  quiet  and  undemonstrative,  nothing  more.  If  you  could 
see  into  me  you'd  tliink  diiierently." 

"  No,  Lisbeth,"  he  said,  "  don't  be  put  out.  But  I've  always 
had  the  feeling  that  you  were  much  too  grand  to  have  any- 
thing to  do  with  me;  and  that,  together  with  my  unhappy 
position,  is  the  reason  why  I  have  been  so  reserved  in  these 
last  years." 

She  looked  at  him  roguishly,  and  said,  "  Just  tell  me,  then, 
Jiirgen.     WHiat  is  there  so  grand  about  me?" 

He  grew  embarrassed,  and  concealed  his  uncertainty  by  as- 
suming a  very  grave  air. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  in  the  first  place,  it's  your  figure,  you 
know.  It's  like  the  young  linden  that  grows  near  the  corner 
of  the  schoolhouse  by  the  garden  gate.  Your  whole  figure  and 
gait  have  something  fresh  and  far-away  about  them." 

She  gave  a  little  pull  at  her  jacket,  and  said,  with  a  laugh, 
"Go  on!     I  like  hearing  you  describe  me,  though." 

"And  then  your  face!  It  looks  as  if  this  beautiful  sunny 
day  had  only  made  it  this  very  morning.  And  eyes  of  such 
dour  earnestness,  without  taking  into  account  that  you  hold 
them  quite  different  in  your  head  when  you  look  at  me." 

"  I  don't,  Jiirgen!  " 

"  And  when  you  speak,  you  make  such  a  pretty  fuss  with 
your  mouth,  that  one  likes  looking  at  you  just  to  see  its 
mann?uvres.     Your  mouth  has  grown  broader  and  quieter." 

"  Well,  have  >nu  done  now?  " 

"  Do  you  remember,  too,"  he  said,  "  that  you  would  never 
give  Fiete  Cray  your  hand  when  we  wanted  to  help  you  over 
the  embankment?  No,  there  you'd  stand.  You  wouldn't 
slide  down,  for  your  dress  would  have  got  dirty!  Besides,  it 
wouldn't  have  looked  nice.  Then  you  would  call  out  '  Jiir- 
gen! Jiirgen!'  I  can  still  hear  your  voice  from  the  top 
of  the  embankment.  Do  you  see?  That's  the  sort  of  girl  you 
were!  " 


344  J  O  R  N     U  H  L 

"  And  why  was  I  ?  Because  Fiete  Cray's  hands  weren't 
always  too  clean,  as  you  very  well  know." 

"  Yes,  child  ;  but  what  about  my  hands,  now  ?  What  haven't 
they  had  to  take  hold  of?  When  my  brother's  body  lay  on 
the  floor  of  the  hall  .  .  .  Oh,  I'm  not  going  to  think  about  it! 
You're  too  good  for  such  a  hand  as  that,  Lisbeth." 

"  Give  it  to  me,"  she  said  ;  and  before  he  realized  what  she 
was  going  to  do,  she  had  caught  hold  of  his  hand  and  laid  it 
to  her  cheek.     "  That's  what  I  think  about  it,"  she  said. 

A  tremor  ran  through  his  body,  lie  held  her  hand  fast,  and 
said,  somewhat  haltingly,  "  You  are  my  own  dear  little  play- 
mate." 

They  had  now  reached  the  edge  of  the  forest,  and  he  showed 
her  the  spot  where  the  slope  of  the  embankment,  for  about  the 
length  of  a  man,  was  clad  with  thick  moss. 

"  Will  you  sit  down  here  a  little?  " 

To  his  great  surprise  she  did  so.  "  Here,"  she  said,  "  the 
four  of  us  once  lay." 

"  Where  are  the  two  others?  "  said  he. 

She  stroked  the  moss  at  her  side  and  wanted  to  say  some- 
thing, and  gazed  down  on  the  ground  before  her.  At  last, 
she  spoke.  "  I  won't  have  any  peace  of  mind,  Jijrgen,  until 
you  think  rightly  about  me.  I'm  neither  proud  nor  prudish. 
Look,  Jiirgen !  You  remember  that  time  we  met  in  the  apple 
orchard?  It  was  a  comical  affair,  wasn't  it?  You  were 
reasonable  and  natural,  and  I  behaved  ridiculously.  As  for 
the  reason  why  I  wouldn't  dance  with  you  at  the  ball  afterward, 
you  know  what  it  was  perfectly  well  already,  and  perhaps 
you've  thought  differently  and  more  wisely  about  it  since  then. 
And  then,  tliat  I  didn't  have  more  to  do  with  Elsbe;  see, 
Jiirgen,  I  know  how  loyal  and  good  her  heart  was,  and  she 
was  shrewd  enough,  too.  When  she  was  quite  young,  she 
looked  upon  life  with  remarkably  clear  and  sensible  eyes,  whilst 
I,  for  a  time,  was  a  cross-grained  and  foolish  thing.  She  was 
never  greatly  smitten  with  things  that  aren't  worth  caring 
and  talking  so  much  about,  —  curtain-lace  and  such  things,  — 
but  looked  on  what  was  real  and  true.  In  that  she  was  your 
true  sister,  Jorn.  .  .  .  But  you  have  never  heard  what  a  plight 
she  was  in.  You  don't  know  that,  when  you  were  a  soldier, 
she  got  up  in  the  night  and  stole  through  the  dark  village 
up  to  my  window  and  passed  half  the  night  with  me.     Then 


JORN     UHL  345 

she  cried  bitterly  and  complained  about  her  restlessness.  Then 
in  winter,  when  the  ball  season  came,  she  was  so  wild  and 
beside  herself  that  people  be^an  to  talk  about  her."  She  drew 
a  deep  breath,  not  darinjz;  to  look  up  at  him. 

"  You  see,  Jiirgen,  I  am  not  free  from  this  either.  You 
mustn't  think  me  stupid  and  silent,  and  hard-hearted  and  in- 
different. It  is  a  thing  I  have  kept  shut  up  in  my  soul.  It 
and  relif2;ion  are  my  heart's  two  most  secret  things." 

"Aren't  they  two  quite  separate  things?" 

"  I  think  not,  Jiirgen.  Are  they  not  rather  like  brother 
and  sister?  I  hope  you  don't  think  that  religion  is  from  God 
and  nature  from  the  devil.  For  they  are  both  from  God,  and 
should  dwell  side  by  side,  and  be  of  mutual  help  to  each  other." 

She  passed  her  hand  lightly  over  the  moss.  "  See,  this  is 
the  pride  of  which  you  complain.  I  live  in  a  nice  house. 
Ihe  walls  are  cleanly  whitewashed,  and  the  windows  are 
brightly  polished,  and  not  too  high,  and  have  a  bit  of  curtain 
in  them.  But  if  any  one  thinks  that  a  pious  old  maid  lives 
there,  —  you  know,  Jiirgen,  that  sort  of  lamblike  piety,  —  then 
they  make  a  mistake.  In  my  clean  little  room  behind  the  cur- 
tains I  often  sing  and  laugh  aloud  and  dance,  and  many  a 
time  I  throw  myself  out  full  length  on  the  carpet  and  weep 
my  fill,  without  the  least  idea  why  I  do  such  things." 

He  looked  down  on  her  with  bright  eyes.  The  trees  behind 
her  had  leaned  over  a  little  toward  her  in  order  to  hear  every- 
thing she  said,  and  the  evening  sun  rolled  golden  balls  over  the 
moss.    Jorn  was  in  the  midst  of  a  fairy-story  and  didn't  know  it. 

"  It's  strange  how  things  have  gone  with  you  and  me,"  he 
said ;   "  yesterday  I  came  to  you,  and  to-day  you  come  to  me." 

Now,  for  the  first  time,  she  looked  up  at  him.  "If  you 
like,  Jiirgen,  we  will  be  fast  friends  again,  and  remain  so  all 
our  lives." 

He  struck  his  stick  on  the  ground  and  said,  "  No  greater 
gift  can  I  desire,  Lisbeth,  than  a  human  soul  to  whom  I  can 
unburden  my  heart.  I  have  never  had  any  one  like  that  since 
Fiete  Cray  disappeared  behind  Ringelshorn,  and  Lena  Tarn 
made  ready  to  die.  I  have  been  a  lonely  man,  and  in  my 
loneliness  I  have  grown  odd  and  strange,  and  my  heart  has 
frozen." 

"  But  now  you're  beginning  to  thaw,  Jorn.  Now  you  join 
hands   again   with   life   where  you   left   it  as   a  boy.     You're 


346  J  O  R  N     U  H  L 

still  j'oung  enough  for  that.  Oh,  what  a  strange  fellow  you 
were!  So  dignified  and  so  grave!  You  got  that  from  the  Haze 
people." 

"  Now,"  said  he,  "  come.  We'll  go  home  and  we  can  talk 
matters  over  to-morrow.  We'll  talk  over  what  I'm  to  do. 
If  you're  my  comrade,  you'll  have  to  stand  by  me  and  give 
me  counsel  in  that,  too." 

"  Do  you  know  w^hat?  "  she  said.  "  Maj^be  in  the  next  few 
months  you  won't  be  able  to  look  after  little  Jorn  very  well. 
You  can  scarcely  leave  him  here.  It's  too  far  from  the  school 
for  him.  I  wish  you'd  just  give  him  into  my  charge,  Jiirgen. 
We've  such  good  schools,  and  I  ...  I  stood  at  his  mother's 
death-bed." 

"  Would  you  do  that,  Lisbeth?  " 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

When  Jorn  Uhl  came  back  fairly  early  next  morning  from 
the  moor,  where  he  had  been  with  Thiess,  he  thought,  "  Ah, 
now  both  of  them  shall  get  up  at  once,  and  come  with  me  out 
on  to  the  heath."  But  as  he  went  through  the  kitchen  he  met 
Wieten,  who  said  to  him,  "  I'm  to  give  you  their  greetings, 
Jorn,  and  tell  you  they're  not  at  home  to  you  till  the  afternoon. 
You  are  to  spend  the  forenoon  with  Thiess." 

"  Well,  if  that's  not  .  .  .  Wieten,"  said  he,  "  she  and  the 
youngster  are  a  regular  pair  of  conspirators." 

"  And  no  wonder,  Jorn.  As  far  as  age  goes  she  might  well 
be  his  mother,  and  she  thinks  such  a  lot  of  him.  It's  no  mere 
make-believe." 

He  returned  obediently  to  the  moor  and  did  not  come  home 
till  noon,  when  he  found  the  two  of  them  just  arrived. 

"Well,  have  you  got  on  well  together  to-day?" 

"We  haven't  had  a  single  quarrel!"  said  the  boy;  "and 
we've  told  each  other  some  splendid  stories.  This  afternoon 
you  can  come  with  us,  too,  father." 

"  Well,  that's  something,  at  any  rate,"  said  Jorn. 

Lisbeth  blushed  and  then  laughed.  "  We  are  going  to  do 
just  what  we  like  with  you.  This  afternoon  you're  to  be 
allowed  to  go  with  us  to  the  Rugenberg;  we  want  to  see  the 
Hun's  grave." 

"  Where  the  dead  man  used  to  lie  in  it,"  said  the  boy. 

"All  right!  "said  Jorn. 

They  had  walked  nearly  an  hour  through  the  Haze  woods, 
and  then  over  a  heath,  and  had  come  down  across  the  meadows 
to  a  little  wooden  bridge,  and  climbed  up  on  the  other  side 
through  a  tiny  forest,  and  there  they  saw  the  Rugenberg  lying 
before  them.     It  is  quite  a  considerable  hill.     From  there  you 

347 


348  J  O  R  N     U  H  L 

have  an  outlook  over  a  wide  moor  stretching  as  far  as  the  chains 
of  hills  on  the  other  side. 

On  the  summit,  beneath  young  pines  and  beeches,  ancient 
graves  have  been  opened. 

When  the  three  had  climbed  up  as  far  as  the  beeches,  "  I 
say,  Lisbeth,"  said  the  little  boy,  "  shall  we  have  a  bit  of  a 
rest  here?  " 

"  What  do  you  say,  Jiirgen?  " 

"  Father,  have  you  got  a  knife  on  you?  Then  let's  just 
make  a  hole  in  the  ground  and  have  a  game  of  marbles." 

"  What  an  idea!  "  said  Jorn.  "  What  put  marbles  into  your 
head?  " 

"Oh!    we  had  a  game  yesterday,  too,"  said  Lisbeth. 

"  Do  you  remember  the  last  time  that  we  two  played  mar- 
bles, Lisbeth?"  said  Jorn. 

"  Yes,  and  you  quarrelled  about  them." 

He  laughed.  "  I'm  not  so  sure  of  that.  You  put  your  hand 
in  the  hole  and  grabbed  the  marbles." 

"  I'd  won  them,"  she  said. 

Jorn  Uhl  was  scooping  out  a  hole  with  his  knife.  "  You 
had  not  won  them!  The  sixth  marble  had  stopped  on  the 
edge  of  the  hole.  You  saw  that,  but  you  thought  it  was  better 
to  make  a  dash  for  them.  That  was  always  the  way  with 
you,  with  your  grand  airs.  You'd  always  get  in  a  huff  the 
moment  any  one  contradicted  you." 

"Oh!  Indeed!  ...  I  could  tell  you  to  this  day  how  the 
marbles  lay.  There  wasn't  the  shadow  of  a  doubt  about  it. 
Just  hand  the  marbles  here  to  me!  This  one  was  in  the  hole 
in  this  position." 

"  That's  only  on  the  edge!  "  said  the  little  fellow.  "  You'd 
have  to  have  another  shot!  " 

Jorn  knelt  down  opposite  the  two  of  them.  "  Do  you  hear 
what  the  youngster  says?" 

She  laid  the  marble  once  more  on  the  sloping  side  of  the 
hole,  close  to  the  edge.     "  Here's  where  it  was." 

It  rolled  down. 

"What  did  I  tell  you?"  he  exclaimed.  "Can  the  marble 
stop  there  on  the  slope?  " 

Then  of  a  sudden  she  stretched  out  her  hand,  snatched  up 
the  marbles,  and  held  them  clenched  in  her  fingers  in  her  lap, 


J  O  R  N     U  H  L  349 

looking  away  over  his  head  the  while,  as  though  she  were  all 
alone  there. 

He  laughed.  "  Thats  just  the  way  you  did  last  time,  and 
I  caught  hold  of  your  ear  and  pulled  it  for  you." 

"Oh!    and  what  made  you  do  such  a  thing  as  that?" 

"Because  you  were  spoiling  the  game!  But  you!  you 
couldn't  bear  me  to  touch  you.  How  could  such  a  rough 
fellow  take  hold  of  such  a  dainty  girl !  " 

"  Y  ou  hadn't  any  right  to  pull  my  ear." 

"  No,  I  ...  I  hadn't  any  right,  but  you,  you  were  always 
right.  '  Jiirgen,  let's  have  a  game!  Jiirgen,  let's  see  how 
the  wind  is  on  Ringelshorn!  Jiirgen,  let's  go  and  catch  stickle- 
backs!' But  when  Jiirgen  wanted  to  be  a  real  comrade  and 
wanted  to  treat  you  as  he  would  a  mate,  then  you  always 
got  into  a  temper  and  put  on  a  frightened  look.  And  you'd 
do  just  the  same  now  !  Such  a  touch-me-not!  The  man 
who  wants  you  for  a  wife  will  be  a  rash  fellow." 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  strange  mixture  of  roguishness 
and  embarrassment,  but  seeing  what  a  confused  look  she 
had  in  her  eyes,  he  said  in  the  soft  tone  which  he  had  always 
used  to  her  when  she  was  angry,  as  a  child,  "  Give  the  marbles 
here,  Lisbeth.  Now,  just  see  if  we  can't  finish  that  game  w^e 
were  having.  The  one  who  fires  six  out  of  seven  into  the  hole 
shall  have  been  in  the  right  that  other  time." 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  I'm  not  going  to  stake  what  rightly  belongs 
to  me  in  that  way." 

"  No  more  wall  I !  "  said  the  boy. 

"  Well,  just  as  you  like,"  said  Jorn.  "  Just  as  you  like,"  and 
he  began  to  fire  a  few  shots  with  the  marbles  that  were  still 
lying  there.  She  gazed  straight  before  her  with  a  saucy  look 
on  her  face. 

But  when  she  saw  that  he  fired  so  timidly  that  he  didn't 
get  more  than  one  into  the  hole,  she  guessed  her  chances  weren't 
so  bad.  She  broke  into  a  ringing  laugh,  and  said,  "  Well, 
come  on!      I'm   ready!" 

Now  they  were  both  hard  at  it,  and  their  heads  came  nearer 
and  nearer  together,  while  the  youngster  lay  almost  over  the 
hole   making   fun   of   the  bad   shots,   and   crying   at   intervals: 
Just  let  me  have  a  shot !  " 
No!     Afterward!" 


n 


350  JORN     UHL 

But  Jorn,  in  spite  of  the  uneven  ground,  at  last  managed 
to  get  six  into  the  hole. 

But  at  the  same  moment  she  snatched  the  marbles  up,  and 
said:  "Why,  Jiirgen,  you've  been  cheating!  You  had  your 
thumb  in  front  of  the  hole!  " 

But  at  the  same  moment  he  had  her  by  the  ear  and  was 
shaking  her.  He  looked  at  her,  however,  with  fear  and  em- 
barrassment, thinking,  "  I  wonder  how  it'll  end  this  time!  " 

But  she  bent  her  head  so  that  his  hand  lay  soft  between  her 
cheek  and  shoulder,  and  looked  at  him  with  a  shy  smile. 

He  drew  his  hand  slowly  back  and  said  in  a  low  voice,  trem- 
bling with  emotion,  "  You  are  different  from  what  I  thought, 
after  all,  Lisbeth.  How  sweet  and  pure  your  face  is!  It  still 
has  the  look  of  the  little  Rain-tweet  of  old  in  it." 

The  youngster,  who  had  found  it  somewhat  tedious  waiting, 
had  gone  up  toward  the  summit  of  the  hill.  Suddenly  he 
called  down,  "  Look,  father !  Do  you  see  that  man  sitting  up 
there  in  the  grass?     Do  you  know  who  he  is?" 

"  I  don't  see  any  one.     Where  do  you  mean?  " 

"  There!   can't  you  see  him?    Shall  I  tell  you  who  he  is?  " 

"Who,  then?" 

"  It's  Heim  Heiderieter.  W^hy,  he's  sold  calves  to  you  many 
a  time!  " 

"  Bless  me!  so  it  is,"  said  Jorn,  springing  up.  "  Do  you  see, 
Lisbeth?" 

Heim  Heiderieter  was  already  on  his  feet  looking  down  at 
them  in  astonishment.  "Who  be  ye?"  he  cried.  "May 
Wodan  fill  ye  with  dread  and  Thor  lift  his  hammer  against  ye. 
.  .  .  But  let  Freya  guide  the  soul  of  this  woman  that  she  may 
look  kindly  upon  me.  .  .  .  Oh,  it's  you,  Jorn  Uhl!  And  what 
does  Jorn  Uhl  want  here  with  his  star-gazing? —  Here,  where 
the  footprints  of  our  fathers  lie  in  the  graves?  What!  Lisbeth 
Junker!  He  shall  be  welcome  on  this  sunny  height,  because 
he  has  brought  you  and  the  little  lad  with  him." 

Lisbeth  and  the  boy  ran  on  ahead,  and  Lisbeth  gave  him 
her  hand,  and  said,  in  a  swift  whisper,  "  You've  heard,  haven't 
you,  that  Jiirgen  has  given  up  the  farm?  But  he's  glad  he's 
got  rid  of  all  the  worry  of  it.  Don't  go  talking  to  him  about 
old  times." 

"What's  she   twittering  about   there?"   asked   Jorn;    "it's 


JORN     UHL  351 

just  for  all  the  world  like  a  finch  on  the  kitchen  window-sill. 
.  .  .  What  brings  you  here,  Heim?  " 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you,"  said  Heim.  "A  year  ago  Peter 
Voss  of  Vaarle  and  I,  and  a  few  others,  opened  an  old  stone 
room  up  here,  and  found  in  it  a  dead  man,  whom  we  sent  to 
the  museum  at  Kiel." 

"  Whereabouts  was  he  lying?  " 

"  Just  there!  Do  you  see?  In  that  little  gray  stone  chamber. 
.  .  .  Now,  I  was  in  Kiel  not  long  ago,  and  had  a  talk  with 
my  dear  friend.  Pastor  Biernatzki  of  Hamburg,  and  stood 
for  the  second  time  before  the  poor  skeleton,  and  looked  at 
the  few  blackened  remnants  of  the  boat  that  the  man  had 
been  buried  in.  And  Biernatzki  said  to  me  —  you  know  Bier- 
natzki, don't  you,  Jorn?  He  and  I  once  paid  you  a  visit  at 
the  Uhl  —  a  tall,  black-haired  man.  '  Well,  Heim,'  said  he, 
'  you'll  just  have  to  write  an  account  of  this  fellow's  life.' 

"'Why?'  I  asked.  'Because  he's  got  such  a  wonderfully 
strong  set  of  teeth,  eh  ? ' 

"  '  No,'  he  said,  '  but  because  the  back  of  his  head  is  so  well 
shaped,  I  believe  that  man  must  have  had  a  remarkable  mind.' 

"  That's  what  he  said,  and  that's  why  I've  come  here.  .  .  . 
And  —  what  do  you  think?"  he  said,  striking  the  grass  with 
his  hand ;  "  here,  on  this  spot  where  they  buried  him  three 
thousand  years  ago,  I  have  discovered  what  sort  of  a  life  he 
lived!  " 

"  I  say,  Heim !  "  exclaimed  Jorn  Uhl,  "  there  you  are,  letting 
your  imagination  run  away  with  you  again." 

But  Lisbeth  Junker  proposed  that  Heim  should  tell  them 
the  story  straight  away. 

"  Well,  you'll  have  to  sit  down  opposite  me,"  said  Heim, 
"  for  I  like  looking  at  you.  And  Jorn  Uhl  mustn't  wear  such 
a  superior  look  on  his  face.  Of  course  he  thinks  I'm  making 
it  all  up.  But,  I  tell  you,  Jorn,  there's  just  as  much  truth 
in  what  I'm  going  to  tell  you  about  that  dead  man  as  there 
is  in  your  talk  about  geological  strata  or  the  seeds  of  wild 
flowers.     I'm  going  to  tell  you  gospel  truth." 

"  Well,  go  ahead !     We've  got  time  enough." 

So  Heim  Heiderieter  stretched  himself  out  full  length,  sup- 
porting his  curly  head  in  his  hand,  and  related  the  following 
story : 

"  If  you  go  down  this  hill  into  yonder  hollow,  you  come  to 


352  JORN     UHL 

the  old  bed  of  a  brook.  Every  spring  and  autumn  the  water 
still  gathers  and  lies  there  and  washes  down  all  sorts  of  earth 
into  it,  and  the  valley  of  the  brook  becomes  a  broad  green 
strip  in  a  meagre  environment. 

"  Three  thousand  years  ago  a  powerful  little  stream  flowed 
there.  For  all  these  hill-ridges  around  about  us  were  in  those 
days  decked  with  a  thick  confusion  of  trees.  Lindens  and 
beeches,  birches  and  oaks,  grew  and  struggled  side  by  side. 
A  profusion  of  hazels  and  sloes  and  wild  apple-trees  flourished 
and  burrowed  around  the  knees  of  their  great  brethren,  and 
where  one  of  the  giants  had  fallen  in  some  April  storm,  they 
spread  themselves  out  and  fought  to  get  at  the  light. 

"  The  woods  on  the  heights  and  the  waters  in  the  lowlands 
were  the  lords  of  the  country  in  those  days.  Man  didn't  count 
for  as  much  then  as  he  does  now,  but  he  was  already  so  far 
advanced  that  he  no  longer  felt  such  fear  of  the  wild  beasts, 
whose  strength  was  greater  than  his.  Here  and  there,  between 
the  waters  and  the  woods,  where  the  ground  had  been  cleared, 
stood,  lonely  and  isolated,  the  dwellings  of  men.  Trunks  of 
young  trees  were  put  up  on  the  bare  ground  as  beams  and 
cross-pieces,  and  covered  with  reeds  from  the  edge  of  the 
marsh,  and  the  roof  was  weighted  with  heavy  masses  of  turf, 
to  give  the  building  strength  to  withstand  the  onslaughts  of 
the  autumn  winds,  and  to  break  the  power  of  the  heavy  rains. 

"  By  the  side  of  the  narrow  brook,  beneath  great  spreading 
beech-trees,  there  dwelt  in  those  days  a  man  in  the  full  strength 
of  his  early  manhood.  In  his  youth  he  had  borne  some  other 
name,  but  now  that  he  was  grown  up  people  always  called 
him  the  Boatman,  from  his  passion  for  scooping  out  little  boats 
of  linden-wood,  and  fitting  them  with  tiny  sails  of  bast,  and 
sailing  them  on  the  brook.  And  after  he  had  finished  his  ex- 
periments with  these  toy  vessels,  he  made  a  big  boat  with 
a  great  mainsail  of  ox-hide  after  the  same  model,  and  made 
trials  with  her  in  the  Elbe  Bight  —  a  place  where  nowadays 
you'll  find  nothing  but  fen-lands.  He  was  so  taken  up  with 
his  carpentering  and  his  experiments,  that  the  whole  summer 
went  by  without  his  paying  any  heed  to  the  maidens  who  used 
to  bathe  and  shout  and  splash  at  the  bend  of  the  stream.  Nor 
did  he  trouble  his  head  about  fields  or  cows,  or  dogs  to  hunt 
with  in  winter.     For,  like  all  inventors,   he  was  thoughtless 


JORN     UHL  353 

and  unpractical,  and  forj^ot  to  make  provision  for  the  hard 
times  of  winter. 

"  Thus  whilst  he  played  at  making  bast-sails  and  sailing  his 
little  boats  the  summer  passed  by.  Hut  when  winter  was 
come  and  his  hunger  was  great  he  hurried  away  through  snow 
and  the  cold  east  wind  —  for  his  wolfskin  was  thin  and  worn 
—  to  the  hut  that  lay  away  down  by  the  brook.  In  that  se- 
cluded spot  there  lived  an  old  man  who  did  nothing  all  the 
summer  long  but  look  after  his  field  of  barley  and  tend  his 
herds  of  swine  beneath  the  oaks,  while  all  the  winter  all  he 
(lid  was  to  boil  this  barley  in  a  big  soup-pot,  and,  after  draining 
the  vessel  dry,  he  would  get  up  from  his  hearth-fire  and  reach 
upwards  into  the  blue  gray  smoke  wiiere  heavy,  broad  flitches 
of  bacon  were  hanging.  There  the  Boatman  lay  all  the  winter, 
surrounded  by  fire  and  smoke  and  boiling  barley  and  flitches 
of  bacon,  gravely  discussing  such  themes  as  whether  Thor's 
hammer  were  made  of  gold  or  bronze,  whether  the  men  who 
died  young  in  their  huts  without  ever  having  done  valiant 
deeds  \\ould  ever  come  into  Wodan's  halls,  whether  the  time 
would  e\er  come  when  human  beings  would  be  able  to  build 
a  boat  big  enough  to  hold  a  hundred  people.     And  so  on, 

"  When  the  first  days  of  spring  came  the  Boatman  emerged 
from  the  smoke  and  went  down  into  the  creek,  washed  oH 
the  crust  of  grease  and  grime  that  had  gathered  on  him  in 
the  long  winter,  and  returned  to  his  work,  all  spick  and  span, 
with  his  skin  ruddy  and  firm  and  fresh. 

"  But  one  day,  in  the  very  midst  of  his  work,  a  great  thought 
flashed  upon  him.  It  came  down  on  him  with  a  swoop,  as 
if  it  had  been  one  of  the  eagle-hawks  that  he  had  seen  circling 
in  the  sky  above  him.  He  would  build  quite  a  different  sort  of 
boat,  he  thought.  Yes,  he  would  bend  supple  young  trees  to  the 
form  of  a  boat,  bind  them  together  with  strips  of  hide,  and 
cover  them  over  with  ox-skin,  and  so  get  a  big,  light  boat, 
such  as  no  one  had  ever  thought  of.  He  worked  at  his  idea 
throughout  the  whole  of  that  summer,  and  sometimes  was  so 
downhearted  over  it  that  he  would  put  his  head  between  his 
knees  and  not  move  for  hours,  and  then  anon  he  would  be  so 
jubilant  that  he  would  dance  around  the  wooden  framework 
of  the  boat  in  sheer  delight.  Everybody  was  curious  as  to  how 
it  would  turn  out.  Most  of  them  made  fun  of  him.  The 
maidens  came  and  said,  '  Oh !    it's  going  to  be  a  great  success, 


354  JORN     UHL 

Boatman.'  But  when  they  talked  among  themselves,  they  said, 
'  Tush !    it  will  come  to  nothing.' 

"  One  rough  day  in  autumn  he  dragged  the  new  boat  down 
to  the  water.  Everybody  stood  on  the  bank  v/atching  how 
he  fared.  But  the  first  attempt  was  a  failure.  The  boat  was 
all  lopsided.  It  wobbled  and  was  as  unsteady  as  a  leaf  in  the 
wind.  It  capsized,  and  he  had  to  swim  a  long  way  to  save 
himself.  On  the  bank  he  was  received  with  a  storm  of  loud 
jeers  and  laughter,  the  cries  that  always  greet  the  inventor, 
whether  poet,  scientist,  or  statesman,  when  his  plans  miss  fire. 

"  He  did  not  go  away  and  hang  himself,  but  a  dour  and 
bitter  anger  filled  his  heart.  He  sat  down  on  his  stool  opposite 
the  hearth-fire  and  stayed  there  for  weeks.  His  flaxen  beard 
grew  longer  and  longer.  Still  he  did  not  stir.  Longer  still  it 
grew.  Still  he  sat  there.  It  grew  so  thick  that  you  could 
not  see  his  tight-shut  lips.  It  grew  so  long  that  it  swept  the 
ground  before  the  hearth.  Still  he  sat  there.  He  sat  crouch- 
ing upon  his  stool,  and  his  thoughts  were  bitter.  But  every 
evening  at  dusk  he  got  up  and  went  out  into  the  storm  and 
snow,  and  stayed  there  half  the  night,  fighting  with  the  wolves 
for  the  hares  and  the  birds,  and  with  the  otters  for  the  fish 
they  had  caught,  and  thus  he  obtained  a  meagre  subsistence  and 
grew  inured  to  all  weathers,  and  expert  and  lithe  in  the  front 
and  the  side  jump.  This  was  the  life  he  led  until  the  middle 
of  the  winter. 

"  Then  one  day  the  people  of  the  settlement  felt  the  want 
of  him.  For  since  the  death  of  merry-hearted  Baldermann, 
who,  even  when  his  hair  was  white,  had  given  the  maidens 
new  songs  to  dance  to  every  spring,  the  young  Boatman  had 
been  wont  to  fix  for  them  the  day  when  the  sun  would  turn 
back  toward  spring.  Then  at  his  bidding  they  had  always 
celebrated  the  Yuletide.  So  now  they  sent  a  messenger  to 
him  with  a  kindly  word  on  his  lips  and  the  hind  quarter  of  a 
calf  in  his  hand.  But  scarcely  had  the  Boatman  caught  sight 
of  the  messenger  entering  his  hut  than  he  sprang  up,  and  with- 
out a  word  threw  him  out.  The  hind  quarter  went  flying 
after  him.  So  the  folk  celebrated  the  Yuletide  by  guess  that 
year,  trusting  to  the  word  of  old  Mother  Gruhle,  who  told 
them  that  the  time  of  the  festival  must  be  at  hand,  for  she 
had  only  five  pots  of  schwarz-sauer  left  hanging  up  under  the 
rooftree  —  a  sure  sign  that  the  Yule  feast  was  nigh. 


JORN     UHL  355 

"And  when  the  festival  was  celebrated,  and  men  drank 
deep,  and  began,  after  the  custom  they  had  even  in  those 
days,  to  go  from  hut  to  hut,  they  even  had  the  drunken  courage 
to  go  down  and  visit  the  Boatman,  too.  Six  men  came  reeling 
into  his  hut,  shouting  and  waving  their  cow-horns  over  their 
heads.  "1  he  Boatman  hrst  looked  them  up  and  down,  then 
he  suddenly  sprang  to  his  feet  and,  without  more  ado,  threw 
them  out  of  the  door,  two  at  a  time,  with  such  vehemence 
that  they  went  sliding  feet  first  over  the  ice  on  the  brook. 
When  this  became  known  it  made  folk  knit  their  brows;  for 
never  yet  had  a  man  among  them  been  known  to  spurn  their 
Yuletide  merrymaking. 

"  The  winter  was  long  and  stark.  In  the  smoky  huts  their 
eyes  grew  dim.  From  long  lying  their  bodies  lost  their  lithe- 
ness,  and  their  minds  grew  dull  from  everlastingly  gazing  at 
the  thatch  above  them.  And  so  at  last,  when  spring  came, 
they  were  beside  themselves  with  joy.  They  were  much  blither 
folk  in  those  days  than  we  are  now.  Some  with  loud  shouts 
pulled  down  the  front  walls  of  their  huts,  others  bound  garlands 
of  birch-twigs  around  their  hips  and  danced  together  in  the 
sunshine.  Others  leaped  into  the  brook.  Others  went  out 
a-hunting  in  the  forest,  and  their  children  tried  in  play  to 
imitate  what  was  done.  The  Boatman  alone  remained  at  home 
in  his  hut.  When  they  saw  that  he  was  angry  even  with  the 
sun  in  the  house  of  heaven  and  with  Freya  in  the  forest,  they 
knew  that  he  was  the  sport  of  evil  spirits. 

"  Now  in  the  settlement  there  was  a  maiden  whose  body  was 
as  lithe  as  a  cat's,  and  who  could  do  all  sorts  of  tricks;  and 
this  maiden  was  a  merry  rogue  to  boot.  She  was  the  best  at 
the  games  in  the  meadow.  She  could  swim  under  water  like 
an  otter,  and,  by  holding  her  hands  up  between  the  hearth- 
fire  and  the  thatch  of  the  roof,  she  knew  how  to  make  shadows 
that  looked  like  animals  and  men;  and  she  knew,  moreover, 
all  sort  of  stories  about  trees  and  beasts  and  men.  One  morn- 
ing, while  she  was  bathing,  an  idea  came  into  her  head:  '  I 
will  go  and  have  a  look  at  his  long  beard,'  she  said. 

"  So  she  came  up  out  of  the  brook  and  put  on  her  bright 
dress  of  light  wool  which  she  had  striped  with  the  juice  of  the 
wild  cherry,  and  tightened  her  leathern  girdle,  and  she  was 
in  such  a  hurry  that  the  little  axe,  hanging  from  her  girdle 
in  its  beautiful  leathern  sheath,  fell  to  the  ground.     Around 


356  JORN     UHL 

her  bare  arm,  above  and  below  the  elbow,  she  put  strong  clasps 
of  shining  red  bronze.  Running  to  her  mother's  hut,  she  cried, 
'  Mother,  let's  play  at  Freya  vanquishing  the  bad  fairies,  and 
I  will  be  Freya.  So  give  me  your  breast-shields  and  the  neck- 
lace of  yellow  pearls.'  Her  mother  scolded  her,  but  gave  her 
the  two  red  shields  as  big  as  hands,  which  she  quickly  put 
on,  and  the  pearls,  which  she  twined  among  her  wild,  fair  hair. 
Then  she  stole  away  under  the  great  spreading  beech-trees  to 
his  hut. 

"  She  stooped  and  entered  in,  seeking  with  wide-opened 
eyes  and  beating  heart  near  the  little  hearth-fire  and  trying 
to  make  out  his  form.  For  her  roguish  mood  had  by  this 
almost  dwindled  to  nothing.  But  w'hen  at  last  she  saw  a 
pair  of  deep  eyes,  full  of  bitterness  and  anger,  gazing  at  her 
in  silence,  she  suddenly  thought  of  another  plan.  She  made 
a  quick  dart  with  her  hand  into  her  dress,  where  she  always 
carried  six  knuckle-bones,  and,  kneeling  down,  she  began  to 
toss  them  in  the  air.  As  she  went  on  playing,  she  thought, 
'You've  got  yourself  into  a  pretty  fix  this  time!  Oh,  good- 
ness me!    if  I  were  only  safely  outside  again!  ' 

"  She  went  on  playing  while  he  kept  gazing  at  her.  At  last 
she  could  not  bear  the  pain  in  her  shoulders  any  longer.  The 
knuckle-bones  rolled  on  the  ground. 

"  Then  she  held  out  her  empty  hands  toward  him,  and  said, 
'  The  sun  is  shining,  the  birds  are  merry.  We  play  all  day  long 
by  the  brook.' 

"Then  for  the  first  time  in  six  months  he  spoke:  'Who 
sent  you  hither,  wench  ?  ' 

"  When  she  heard  that  her  spirits  went  up,  and  she  laughed 
aloud,  saying,  'Oh!  I've  come  of  my  own  accord.  I  don't 
want  you  to  sit  here  and  grow  so  black  and  sour,  Gittigitt. 
Don't  be  a  mole  and  hide  away  like  this  from  the  sunlight. 
Come  out  into  the  sun.' 

"  '  Go  your  way  in  peace,'  he  growled. 

You  should  just  see  what  you  look  like,'  she  said.  '  Your 
beard  is  like  an  old  fir-tree.  Shall  I  show  you  what  you  look 
like?' 

"  She  stirred  the  sleeping  fire  with  her  oaken  staff;  twined 
her  hands  together,  and  looked  at  the  shadow  on  the  wall. 
'  Look,'  she  said,  '  like  that.' 

"  He  gave  a  fleeting  glance.     '  It's  not  true,'  he  growled. 


JORN     UHL  357 

No,  it's  not.  Wait  a  moment.  .  .  .  Now,  now  it's  right. 
Look  again !  ' 

"  He  took  another  fleeting  look.     '  It's  not  true,'  he  said. 

"'Not  true?  Any  one  can  say  that!  Just  look  at  your 
own  shadow,  there  on  the  thatch.  Just  look  at  that  face  of 
yours,  I  say!  ' 

"  He  turned  his  head  in  that  direction,  and  nose  and  beard 
vanished,  and  in  their  stead  was  nothing  but  a  big,  dark,  round 
shadow. 

"  She  clapped  her  hands  together  so  that  the  bracelets  clashed 
and  rang  again.  'Oh,  what  a  simpleton  you  are!'  she  said. 
'  Come  here!  '  She  caught  him  by  the  beard  and  held  it  fast. 
*  Now  turn  your  eyes  slowly  toward  the  wall.  Do  you  see 
it  now  ?  ' 

"  He  gave  his  head  a  violent  shake  and  drew  it  back.  '  Let 
go  my  beard,'  he  said,  '  and  take  yourself  off  out  of  this.' 

"  She  looked  at  him  searchingly,  and  thought,  *  I  won't  win 
him  over  in  that  wa\','  then  she  began  slowly  to  gather  up  the 
knuckle-bones.  Suddenly  she  held  her  shut  hand  out  toward 
him  and  said:  'Odd  or  even?  If  you  don't  guess  right  you 
must  come  with  me,  if  you  guess  it,  then  —  ' 

Then  you  stay  here  with  me.  .  .  .  Odd !  '  She  wanted 
to  cry  *  No !  '  and  escape,  but  he  had  caught  her  hand  and 
forced  it  open. 

''  There  were  four  in  it. 

"  She  heaved  such  a  deep  breath  of  relief  that  the  woollen 
garment  on  her  breast  grew  tight.  'You've  lost.  Freya! 
What  a  fright  I  got.     Now  you'll  have  to  come  with  me,' 

Bewitched  are  these  knuckle-bones  of  yours,'  he  cried, 
'  I  will  bite  them  in  pieces  with  my  teeth  and  stay  here ;  or, 
if  I  don't,  you  can  lead  me  through  the  village  with  a  willow- 
wand.' 

"'Do  it!'  she  said,  angrily,  'with  those  wolf's  teeth  of 
yours,'  He  bit  and  snap  went  his  tooth,  but  the  knuckle- 
bone remained  whole. 

"'I've  won!  I've  won!'  she  cried.  'That's  twice!  I'll 
go  and  bring  a  willow-switch,  and  you  must  come  with  me.' 

"  She  ran  out,   and  came  back  stripping  the  leaves  off  the 
willow  with  her  ringed  hand. 
Get  up!  '  she  said. 

"  As  he  stood   up  obediently,   she  could   no  longer   restrain 


358  JORN     UHL 

herself.  '  Do  j^ou  think,'  she  said,  '  that  you're  going  out  with 
me  into  the  meadows  in  this  ph'ght,  so  that  everybody  may 
laugh  at  you,  as  they  did  when  the  boat  capsized?  I've  only 
come  to  make  you  give  up  sulking,  and  to  get  you  forth  out 
of  the  hut.' 

Give  me  the  switch.     I  will  go  with  you  as  I  have  said. 
They  shall  laugh  at  me !  ' 

"  But  she  looked  at  him  with  gleaming  eyes.  '  I  won't,' 
she  said. 

"  '  Then  I'll  not  go  with  you!  ' 

"  Tears  of  anger  filled  her  eyes  and  made  the  whole  hut 
seem  afire.  'Then  stay  here  till  you're  black!'  she  said,  as 
she  threw  doM^n  the  switch  and  ran  out. 

"  For  three  days  she  hid  herself  among  the  thick  branches 
of  a  willow-tree  that  hung  over  the  bank,  and  for  three  days 
she  gazed  with  dreamy  ej'es  into  the  brook,  seeing  his  eyes 
gleaming  through  the  water.  But  on  the  morning  of  the 
fourth  day  she  thought,  '  What  can't  be,  can't  be,'  and  began 
to  call  from  her  hiding-place  with  the  voice  of  the  brown 
owl,  so  that  at  first  the  children  and  then  the  old  people 
came  running  together.  Then  she  was  discovered,  and  got  a 
scolding  from  the  old  women  for  imitating  the  death-bird. 
But  she  laughed  and  mingled  with  the  others  again,  and  was 
the  same  as  she  had  been  before. 

"  In  the  course  of  that  summer  there  was  such  a  drought 
in  the  land  that  young  people  from  the  hills,  on  the  other 
side  from  the  Dietmargos,  crossed  the  bight  on  foot,  stole  into 
the  woods,  and,  looking  down  from  the  heights,  spied  out  the 
course  of  the  brook  and  beheld  the  beautiful  meadows  and  the 
cattle.  The  place  pleased  them,  for  they  were  close  pressed 
where  they  lived  on  the  other  side  at  the  edge  of  the  fens  or 
on  the  barren  heights.  The  fruitful  marsh-land  was  then  not 
yet  in  existence.     It  still  lay  beneath  the  sea. 

"  So  one  day,  with  much  leaping  and  wading  and  swimming, 
they  crossed  the  bight,  losing  in  the  water  on  the  way  three 
men  who  were  drowned  in  the  slime,  and  arriving  eight  hun- 
dred strong  at  the  brook. 

"  Then  young  lads  ran  through  the  meadows  from  herd  to 
herd,  calling  all  the  men  to  the  battle.  But  they  were  a  great 
confused  mass,  like  a  swarm  of  ants  disturbed,  for  they  had 
no  leader.    Their  chief  had  died  that  winter. 


J  O  R  N     U  H  L  359 

"  In  the  Boatman's  liut,  away  up  on  the  brook,  at  last  the 
shout  was  heard,  'To  arms!    there  are  foes  in  the  valley!  ' 

"  Then  he,  too,  leapt  up,  stretched  his  limbs,  and  rejoiced 
at  the  hour  that  {z;ave  him  back  to  the  sun  and  to  his  fellow 
men.  He  buckled  on  his  broad  belt  with  sword  and  dagger, 
seized  his  oaken  shield  and  his  spear  of  ash,  and  sprang  out 
of  his  hut  bareheaded.  The  others  had  already  gone  down  to 
meet  the  enemy. 

"  But  as  he  hurried  down  beside  the  brook  he  saw  by  chance 
—  it  was  a  day  in  autumn  —  a  great  overripe  bilberry-leaf 
floating  on  the  water.  It  was  a  rounded  oblong  in  shape,  and 
hollowed  out  like  a  trough,  and  in  the  middle  of  it,  on  the 
bottom,  lay  a  little  pile  of  berries,  like  a  cargo.  Smoothly 
and  safely  it  floated  on  the  brook  in  the  sunshine,  and  when  he 
saw  it  a  sudden  thought  flashed  upon  him  as  if  from  heaven. 
'  That's  the  way  you  must  build  boats.  With  stem  and  ribs 
and  a  cargo  in  the  bottom,  you  can  build  as  big  as  you  like  .  .  . 
and  it  will  go  steady  and  safe.'  He  threw  himself  on  his 
knees  and  carefully  examined  the  delicate  craft,  pondering  as 
to  how  he  should  set  about  imitating  it.  '  That  will  be  a 
different  sort  of  vessel  from  your  boats  made  out  of  a  single 
oak  trunk.'  Shield  and  ash-spear  lay  beside  him  unheeded  on 
the  grass. 

"  But  while  he  still  lay  there  he  heard  the  wild  shouts  from 
down   yonder   ringing   along   the   brook.      He   saw   his   people 
coming  toward  him  in   full   flight.     Then   he  ran  to  meet  the 
enemy,  crying,  '  Let  it  be  between  me  and  the  chief!  ' 
Are  you  the  chief?  '  the  enemies  cried. 

"And  the  fugitives,  with  fear  in  their  very  bones,  cried: 
'  Yes,  the  Boatman  is  our  chief.     We  choose  him  now!  ' 

"  '  A  folk  without  a  leader  is  like  a  swarm  of  bees  without 
a  queen,'  said  the  others,  generously.  Then  they  stuck  their 
swords  in  the  earth  in  a  circle,  and  the  two  men  fought  there 
on  the  edge  of  the  stream,  and  were  equally  matched  both  in 
skill  and  strength  and  in  courage.  And  so  it  came  about  at 
last  that  both  of  them,  wounded  to  the  death,  sank  fainting 
to  the  earth. 

"  Old  women  came  with  thick,  heavy  cobwebs  to  staunch 
the  blood,  and  also  tried  healing  herbs  and  spells,  but  the 
bleeding  would  not  cease.     Then  said  the  Boatman :    '  He  of 


36o  JORN     UHL 

us  two  who  first  goes  into  the  land  of  the  dead,  he  shall  be 
counted  for  vanquished.' 

"  So  the  two  men  lay  fronting  each  other,  their  eyes  turned 
upwards.  Each  of  them  fighting  hard  to  ward  off  death.  Now 
and  again  the  one  or  the  other  of  them  had  himself  lifted 
up  in  his  comrades  arms,  to  search  his  opponent's  face  and  see 
whether  he  were  about  to  depart.  At  last,  however,  when  the 
sun  was  setting,  the  dark  shadows  came  so  close  to  them  that 
the  light  seemed  to  grow  dim  in  their  eyes.  And  the  strange 
foeman  died  first,  then  the  Boatman.  Thereupon  the  enemy 
left  the  land  again. 

"  For  three  days  the  women  sang  death-dirges  on  the  brook- 
side  in  front  of  his  hut,  whilst  the  men  dragged  great  stones 
up  on  to  this  height  and  shaped  them  and  built  of  them  a 
chieftain's  grave.  Then  they  laid  him,  clad  as  he  was  and 
adorned  with  his  weapons,  in  the  oaken  boat  that  he  had  last 
made,  and  bore  him  amid  the  loud  weeping  of  the  women  up 
to  this  hilltop.  And  behind  the  procession  went  with  heavy 
gait  his  red  and  white  cow  which  was  to  be  sacrificed  for  the 
death-feast.  And  last  of  all  came  tottering  old  Mother  Gruhle, 
pressing  her  biggest  and  best  pot  of  schwarz-sauer  close  to  her 
breast. 

"  They  lowered  the  dead  man  in  his  boat  down  into  the 
grave.  They  laid  the  pot  of  schwarz-sauer  at  his  feet,  so  that 
he  might  have  something  to  eat  on  his  journey  into  the  land  of 
the  dead.  They  put  his  wooden  stool  beside  it,  so  that  he 
could  rest  on  the  way,  for  his  path  lay  across  a  wide  and 
desolate  land.  They  drew  his  good  sword  from  its  sheath 
that  it  might  be  ready  to  his  hand,  for  that  land  was  full  of 
wild  beasts.  In  this  way,  as  they  thought,  he  would,  after  all, 
succeed  in  reaching  the  blessed  abodes  of  the  good  and  the  brave. 

"  Last  of  all  the  maiden  came  forward  who  had  once  seen  the 
dead  man's  eyes  in  the  brook  for  three  whole  days.  With  a 
jerk  she  tore  her  delicate  hammer-knife  from  her  girdle,  knelt 
down  and  dropped  the  beautiful,  golden,  glittering  thing  into 
the  tomb.  She  wished  to  do  her  part  toward  his  sure  and 
safe  arrival.  It  fell  near  the  head  of  the  dead  man,  with  its 
point  toward  his  ear. 

"  They  all  stood  around  the  grave,  and  all  the  women  wept, 
praising  his  handsome  looks  and  his  boats  and  his  last  valiant 
fight.     And  the  maiden,  too,  wept  sore. 


JORN     UHL  361 

"  Then  they  laid  a  heavy,  close-fitting  stone  over  the  vault 
and  built  a  hearth  over  it,  killed  the  cow,  gave  good  and  evil 
spirits  the  udder  and  the  bones  of  the  legs,  keeping  for  them- 
selves the  hind  quarters  and  shoulders  and  the  fleshy  parts  of 
the  ribs,  and  roasted  them,  and  a  little  to  one  side  of  the  grave 
here  where  we  are  sitting  they  began  their  death-wake,  and 
gradually  grew  festive  and  merry.  It  was  an  autumn  evening 
like  to-day. 

''  After  the  meal,  when  the  old  people  were  still  lying  around 
the  fire,  the  grown-up  youths  and  maidens,  a  little  apart  from 
them  as  is  their  fashion,  were  sitting  around  the  fresh  grave 
chatting.  One  maiden  sat  in  the  midst  of  them  and  told  how 
several  moons  ago  she  had  been  at  the  Boatman's,  and  how 
she  had  played  knuckle-bones  before  him.  '  Oh,  but  I  can't 
tell  you  how  frightened  I  w  as.  \  ou  know,  there  was  always 
something  strange  about  him.'  And  she  told  tkem  how  she 
had  caught  him  by  the  beard.  '  Oh,  if  you  had  only  seen  his 
face !  '  And  as  she  thought  of  it  she  began  to  laugh.  She 
laughed  so  much  that  she  struck  her  hands  on  the  gravestone 
and  laid  her  head  on  it.  She  was  laughing  still  when  she 
loosened  her  girdle  in  her  parent's  hut  and  threw  back  the 
wolfskin  rug  under  which  she  slept. 

"  That  was  how  this  man  perished.  Because  he  was  an 
artist,  some  will  say.  For  it  is  the  habit  of  men  to  drive  artists 
from  the  world  with  sheer  disgust.  But  perhaps  this  isn't, 
as  one  thinks,  the  wickedness  of  men,  but  the  holy  will  of 
God.     For  unless  the  top  is  whipped  it  will  not  hum. 

"  But  perhaps  some  will  say  he  perished  because  he  had  no 
clear  idea  of  the  distinctions  between  things.  When  he  had 
built  the  boat,  what  mattered  to  him  the  laughter  of  men? 
And  when  the  maiden  bent  the  bows  of  her  beautiful  eye- 
brows in  love  and  anger  upon  him,  what  affair  of  his  was  the 
willow-switch  ?  When  he  was  running  to  meet  the  enemy,  why 
should  he  concern  himself  with  a  bilberry-leaf  floating  on  the 
stream?  Men  are  always  inclined  to  mix  too  many  things 
together  and  brew  a  potion  of  them,  w  hich  is  the  death  of  them. 

"  Or,  rather,  I  don't  know  the  real  cause  of  his  overthrow. 
Who  can  know  it?  One  can't  point  to  a  cause  as  one  can  to 
an  ink-spot  on  a  piece  of  paper,  and  say,  '  There  it  is !  '  Nor 
can  one  write  a  single  sentence  about  a  man  and  say,  '  That's 
the  idea  that  ruined  him!  '    Man's  life  is  much  too  complex  and 


362  JORN     UHL 

manifold  to  be  summed  up  by  referring  to  one  cause  or  one 
idea. 

"  Last  jear  we  opened  the  grave.  We  ought  to  have  left 
him  lying  there.  He  lay  there  safe  from  all  his  disappointments, 
but  our  curiosity  to  know  how  men  lived  three  thousand  years 
ago  was  great,  and  we  opened  the  vault. 

"  When  we  took  his  sword  from  his  breast  and  held  it  in  the 
sun  again  for  the  first  time,  it  still  had  its  old  brightness. 
Nothing  was  left  of  the  wood  and  leather  of  the  stool.  Only 
the  two  bronze  bolts  that  had  held  the  cross-legs  together  lay 
upon  the  stones.  The  schivarz-sauer  pot  of  old  Mother  Gruhle 
was  still  there,  in  good  preservation  but  empty.  The  dainty 
axe  of  the  maiden  was  still  pointing  toward  his  ear." 

The  sun  stood  between  the  far-away  hilltops  like  one  of 
those  round  lanterns  that  children  carry  about  the  village  on 
autumn  evenings,  singing  as  they  go. 

Heim  Heiderieter  had  finished  his  story  and  stood  up,  saying, 
"  Woe  to  the  man,  Jorn  Uhl,  who  is  only  a  hunter  after 
bread,  or  money,  or  honor,  and  hasn't  a  single  pursuit  he  loves, 
whereby,  even  if  it  be  only  over  a  narrow  bridge.  Mother 
Nature  can  com.e  into  his  life  with  her  gay  wreaths  and  her 
songs.  .  .  .  It's  time  for  me  to  be  going  home.  You  have 
listened  well,  and  you,  too,  little  chap,"  he  said  to  Jorn's 
young  son. 

"  Have  you  far  to  go?  "  said  Lisbeth. 

"  It's  a  three  hours'  walk,"  said  he,  "  through  fen  and  sand, 
and  then  through  the  silent  little  villages  of  the  Geest,  and  at 
last  across  a  heath.  There's  plenty  to  look  at  and  think  over 
on  the  way  —  besides,  I  know  that  when  I  get  home  they'll  be 
glad.  .  .  .  Good  night,  all  three!  remember  me  to  Thiess 
Thiessen  and  Wieten.  It  has  made  me  glad  to  see  your  eyes 
bright  again,  Jorn!  And  as  for  you,  Lisbeth  Junker,  you've 
got  a  red  ear;   who  has  been  pulling  it?  " 

"  Oh,  that  was  father,"  said  the  boy. 

Heim  Heiderieter  burst  out  laughing,  nodding,  and  hugely 
enjoying  Lisbeth's  embarrassment.     Then  he  went  home. 

They  stood  watching  him  as  he  went  down-hill  toward  the 
fens.  Suddenly  Jorn  l-hl  started  up  as  if  out  of  a  deep  sleep, 
and  said,  "Just  fancy  that  fellow!     For  four  years  he  was  at 


JORN     UHL  363 

the  university  and  came  back  without  passing  his  examination. 
He  had  come  to  loggerheads  with  science.  Naturally  Dame 
Science  is  a  sober  and  respectable  lady.  A  Master  of  Arts 
he  may  be,  but  they  are  breadless  arts." 

"  It's  a  fine  thing,  though,  to  be  able  to  tell  stories  like  that, 
Jiirgen.  You  might  have  read  seven  scientific  books  about 
our  forefathers  and  seven  more  about  the  human  soul,  and  you 
wouldn't  have  learnt  so  much  or  got  so  much  delight  as  you  have 
out  of  the  vivid  little  picture  that  he  has  just  painted  for  us." 

"  Oh,"  said  Jorn  Uhl,  "  he's  a  monster.  He  saw  us  when  we 
were  sitting  under  the  beeches,  and  then  he  invented  this 
story.  Such  a — "  He  turned  around,  went  to  the  grave  and 
looked  in,  then  looked  back  at  Lisbeth.  "  What  did  he  say? 
Knuckle-bones?  What  put  knuckle-bones  into  the  man's  head? 
Just  tell  me  that,  now.  And  how  long  was  it  his  beard  grew? 
His  flaxen  beard!  How  cock-sure  he  was  about  it!  And  the 
beard  kept  on  grov\ing  longer  and  longer.  I  believe  it  was 
seven  yards  long.  And  he  said  he  could  prove  it,  didn't  he? 
And  that  it  was  just  as  true  as  geological  strata  and  plant  seeds 
and  botany!    Just  think  of  the  effrontery  of  him." 

"  But  you  listened  attentively  enough,  after  all." 

"  That  I  confess.  It  seemed  as  if  God  had  let  one  have  a 
peep  into  His  workshop,  and  one  had  to  put  on  one's  Sunday 
coat  in  order  not  to  look  shabby  in  such  a  place." 

He  turned  around  and  looked  down  toward  the  moor  where 
Heim  Heiderieter  could  still  be  seen  in  the  distance.  "  To 
think  of  such  a  man !  "  he  said,  angrily.  "  He  stuffs  one  full 
with  his  lies,  and  one  actually  feels  thankful  to  him  for  doing 
so.  Let  him  prove  what  he  has  said.  I  say,  let  him  prove  it!  " 
he  cried. 

Lisbeth  laughed,  and  said,  "  Well,  well!  Jiirgen,  jour  anger 
is  delicious.     But,  come,  what  are  we  going  to  do  to-morrow?  " 

"To-morrow?     We'll  all  be  together,  that's  all." 

"  I  shall  not  be  able  to  be  with  you,"  said  the  little  boy.  "  I 
have  to  go  away  to  Meldorf  with  Thiess  to-morrow  on  the 
turf-wagon." 

"  Well,  then,  I  suppose  we'll  have  to  do  without  you,  my 
son,"  said  Jorn.  "  W  hat  do  you  think,  Lisbeth  ?  Don't  you 
think  we  might  drive  over  and  see  my  old  comrade  to-morrow? 
We  can  spend  a  few  hours  cosily  together  in  the  cart,  and  I'm 
sure  you'll  like  him." 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

She  was  in  the  best  of  spirits  as  she  sat  next  him  in  the  cart 
with  the  two  bays  pulling  away  lustily.  In  these  last  years 
Jorn  Uhl  had  been  wont  to  sit  crouched  forward  in  his  cart, 
and  gaze  straight  in  front  of  him  at  the  horses  and  the  road. 
But  to-day  he  sat  up  straight,  and  his  glance  was  blithe  as  he 
peered  into  the  billowy  light  of  that  early  autumn  morning, 
in  whose  eyes  were  still  wisps  of  the  night  mist;  and  now 
and  again  he  would  turn  his  head  suddenly  toward  her  and 
ask,  "Are  you  enjoying  it,  Lisbeth?"  And  when  he  saw  her 
beaming  eyes  he  would  nod  with  responsive  pleasure,  and  then 
look  straight  before  him  at  the  road  once  more,  or  anon  glance 
away  over  the  fields.  She,  however,  kept  peeping  at  him 
out  of  the  corner  of  her  eyes,  but  as  soon  as  she  noticed  any 
sign  of  his  turning  toward  her,  she  would  be  gazing  away 
into  the  airy  distance,  as  though  bent  on  deciphering  wonderful 
things  she  saw  in  the  flying  mists.  It  was  the  old  story  re- 
peating itself  once  more,  the  man  attacking  in  front  and  the 
woman  on  the  flank.     So  everything  was  as  it  should  be. 

They  were  both  very  much  alike;  both  had  the  same  close- 
featured,  straight,  Frisian  faces,  as  though  Nature,  the  great 
artist-mother,  had  made  specially  serious  attempt  to  create 
something  strong  and  beautiful  with  the  ver>'  simplest  means. 
Their  hair  was  flaxen  —  his  quite  smooth,  hers  with  more 
gleam  in  it,  and  tipped  with  little  curls  all  around  the  edge. 
His  face  was  oval  and  strong,  with  thin  firm  lips,  a  long 
straight  nose,  and  eyes  very  clear  and  gray  that  were  always 
on  the  watch  like  sentinels  —  a  typical  Frisian,  Saxon  farmer, 
who  has  to  win  his  way  out  of  penury  and  worry,  a  man  who 
never  laughs  long  and  loud  and  heartily,  but  in  short  out- 
bursts, in  the  corners  of  whose  eyes,  too,  roguishness  crouches 
and  hides  like  children  playing  hide-and-seek  and  throwing 
shining   balls   to   each   other   with    suppressed    laughter.      She, 

364 


JORN     UHL  365 

quiet  and  reserved,  making  him  look  up  to  her  all  his  life  long. 
It  was  like  a  farmer  who  woos  an  earl's  daughter,  and  each 
time  receives  each  look  and  word  of  tenderness,  that  ever  and 
anon  shyly  breaks  forth,  with  new  surprise. 

Three  times  they  stopped  on  the  way,  and  each  time  it  was 
Lisbcth's  fault. 

The  first  time  was  when  they  were  driving  through  a  wood 
of  young  beeches;  she  saw  something  flitting  backward  and 
forward  over  the  dry  leaves,  and  laid  her  hand  en  his  arm 
and  made  him  pull  up.  It  turned  out  to  be  certain  slim- 
legged  birds  with  black  plumage  and  yellow  bills  that  were 
darting  hither  and  thither  in  search  of  their  morning  meal. 

"They're  blackbirds,"  he  said;  "cute  and  wily  little  cus- 
tomers that  books  call  '  Turdus  Merula.'  " 

"  Why,  Jorn,   you   know  everything." 

"  Well,  as  to  the  parts  around  here,  I  like  to  think  I  know  a 
thing  or  two;  but  as  to  what  other  countries  are  like  or  what 
sort  of  creatures  live  in  them,  I  haven't  the  faintest  idea,"  he 
said,  proudly. 

The  second  time  he  pulled  up  it  was  that  she  might  enjoy 
the  glimpse  of  a  wide  valley  to  the  left.  He  pointed  out 
different  landmarks,  and  named  them  to  her  with  the  cere- 
monious self-importance  of  a  native  who  loves  every  spot  in 
the  country  around.  He  spoke,  too,  as  a  farmer  and  con- 
noisseur, who  knows  the  value  of  every  acre  of  ground  far 
and  wide,  and  the  name  of  every  village,  and  the  place  of 
every  boundary-stone  in  the  deep  moor;  and  beyond  the  moor 
the  names  of  the  villages  w-hich  must  lie  over  there.  "  Look, 
Lisbeth,  where  I'm  pointing  with  the  whip."  She  thought 
to  herself,  "Yes,  but  what's  that  to  do  with  me?"  but  did 
not  interrupt  him.  She  listened  with  half  an  ear,  thinking 
"  How  fine  it  is  to  sit  up  here!  I  wonder  whether  he'll  speak 
out  to-day,  and  how  in  the  world  will  he  go  about  it!  Oh,  the 
dear  old  fellow!  "  And  as,  half-turned  from  her,  he  was  point- 
ing with  his  whip  to  the  foggy  land  over  toward  Schenefeld, 
she  pressed  her  face  shyly  against  the  folds  of  his  cloak.  It 
was  the  cloak  that  Lieutenant  Hax  had  given  him  on  the  battle- 
field. Lena  Tarn  had  carefully  covered  the  gold  buttons  with 
black  cloth. 

The  third  time  they  stopped,  at  Lisbeth's  request,  at  "  The 
Red  Cock,"  and  gave  the  horse  a  feed  in  front  of  the  windows 


366  JORN     UHL 

of  the  inn.  The  sun  had  scattered  the  mists,  and  the  air  was 
now  clear  and  warm,  and  they  sat  outside  in  the  sunlight  on 
the  big  white  seat.  The  landlord's  wife  set  two  glasses  of 
fresh  milk  before  them,  and  went  to  and  fro  talking  with  them, 
although  she  did  not  know  them,  about  the  harvest  and  the 
weather.  Jorn  Uhl  asked  and  answered  questions.  Lisbeth,  who 
was  sitting  by  his  side,  was  looking  dreamily  across  the  road 
at  the  bushes  on  the  embankment,  where  birds  were  darting 
about,  and  in  her  reverie  was  painting  little  faint  pictures  of 
the  near  and  far  future,  and  then  rubbing  them  out  and  paint- 
ing in  new  ones ;  then  in  a  fright  she  would  come  back  to 
the  present,  the  mother  of  all  futures,  and  hear  the  man's  voice 
beside  her,  and  smile  to  herself  and  go  off  again  painting. 

Jorn  Uhl  talked  away  and  felt  himself  in  a  splendid  humor. 
To  be  sure  he  would  have  liked  to  sit  a  little  more  comfortably 
and  stretch  his  feet  out,  but  she  sat  there  as  prim  and  neat 
as  a  silk  kerchief  that  has  just  been  taken  out  of  the  drawer. 

When  the  landlady  went  back  into  the  house,  he  again  asked 
Lisbeth  whether  she  had  enjoyed  the  drive,  and  she  again 
assured  him  that  she  had  never  had  such  a  day  in  her  whole 
life.  "  You  can  surely  see  that  for  yourself,  Jorn."  And  she 
looked  at  him  with  a  look  that  brought  such  a  strange  feeling 
around  his  heart,  and  he  said,  "  I  daren't  for  the  life  of  me  go 
near  those  eyes  of  yours.  I  grow  quite  dizzy,  as  if  I  were 
going  to  fall  into  them,  they're  so  deep ;  "  and  he  struck  his 
big  flat  hand  on  the  table,  and  said,  "  Let  me  hear  you  talk 
some  more.  Rain-tweet!  "  Then  she  threw  her  head  back  and 
laughed,  and  struck  him  on  the  hand  with  her  glove,  and  laid 
her  hand  by  the  side  of  his,  and  said  "  Such  hands!  '" 

Then  they  heard  the  voice  of  the  good-humored  landlady 
through  the  open  window,  asking,  "  You  can't  have  been 
married  very  long,  surely?" 

"  No,"  said  Jorn,  "  I've  been  wooing  her  for  seven  years, 
but  never  had  the  courage.     Yesterday  at  last  I  got  her." 

She  shook  her  head  protestingly,  hiding  her  face  in  her 
hands,  and  laughing,  "  Oh,  Jorn,  Jorn,  what  are  you  saying!  " 

"  One  really  doesn't  need  to  have  studied  book-learning  to 
see  she's  but  a  fresh-made  wife.  She  threw  you  such  a  glance 
just  now.  That's  not  the  way  one  looks  at  one's  husband  after 
one's  lived  with  him  a  few  years." 

Join  brought  his  hand  down  heavily  on  the  table  for  the 


J  (J  R  N     U  H  L  367 

second  time,  and  said,  "  What!  did  she  really  look  at  me  like 
that?"  He  took  her  hand  from  her  face  and  said,  "Do  it 
again,  Lisbeth!"  But  she  slapped  his  hand  and  tore  herself 
away  and  looked  straight  across  the  road  and  saw  a  little  bird 
flying,  and  thought  to  herself,  "  If  1  could  only  fly  away  for 
a  little  while,  'twould  be  no  bad  thing." 

At  this  moment,  in  the  nick  of  time,  as  it  were,  the  land- 
lady's little  son  came  running  home  from  school,  a  fair-haired 
boy  of  ten,  and  sought  a  place  where  he  could  sit  down  with 
his  book.  Lisbeth,  noticing  this,  pushed  the  milk  glasses  over 
toward  Jorn  Uhl,  with  a  motion  as  if  to  say,  "  That's  all  for 
you !  "  And  without  looking  up,  she  invited  the  boy  to  sit 
near  her,  asking  him  what  sort  of  a  book  he  had  there. 

"  It's  out  of  the  library,"  he  said.  "  It's  about  fairy-stories, 
I'm  reading  them  straight  through,  and  I'm  right  up  to  here." 

She  looked  into  the  book  that  the  boy  held  out  toward  her, 
saw  the  title  of  it,  and  said,  "  Read  this  one  out  aloud  to  me." 

"  This  one?  "  asked  the  boy. 

"  No,  this  one  about  '  Knowing  Jack.'  This  man  here  likes 
stories  when  they're  good  and  true." 

So  the  boy  read  the  story  of  "  Knowing  Jack." 

"  Jack's  mother  said  to  him,  '  Where  are  ye  goin'  ?  '  Jack 
answered,  'To  Jill's.'  'Keep  your  wits  about  you,  Jack!' 
'  All  right.     Now  I'm  off,  mother.' 

"  Jack  comes  to  Jill.     '  How  d'ce  do,  Jill?  ' 

How  d'ee  do,  Jack?  Brought  anything  for  me?  '  '  Haven't 
brought  nothin'.  Want  somethin'  for  myself.'  Jill  gives  him 
a  knife.     '  Now  I'm  off,  Jill.'     '  Good-by,  Jack.' 

"  Jack  takes  the  knife,  sticks  it  in  his  hat,  and  goes  home. 
' 'Evenin',  mother.'     ' 'Evenin',  Jack.     Where've  ve  been?' 

'"Been  at  Jill's.'  'What  did  ye  take  her?'  ''Take  her? 
Didn't  take  her  nothin'.  Got  somethin'  from  her.  Got  a 
knife.'  'Where's  the  knife?'  'Stuck  it  in  my  hat.'  'That's 
stupid.  Jack.  Ye  should  have  put  it  in  your  pocket.'  '  No 
matter,  mother.     Better  next  time.' 

"'Where  are  ye  goin'.  Jack?'  'To  Jill,  mother.'  'Keep 
your  wits  about  you.  Jack!'  'AH  right,  mother.  Now  I'm 
off,  mother.'     '  Good-by,  Jack.' 

"  Jack  comes  to  Jill.  '  How  d'ee  do,  Jill?  '  '  How  d'ee  do, 
Jack?     Brought  anything  for  me?  '     '  Haven't  brought  nothin'. 


368  J  O  R  N     U  H  L 

Want  somethin'   for  myself.'     Jill   gives  Jack  a  j'oung  goat. 
'  Now  I'm  oft",  Jill.'     '  Good-by,  Jack.' 

"  Jack  takes  the  goat,  binds  its  legs  together,  and  puts  it  in 
his  pocket.  When  he  comes  home,  *  'Evenin',  Jack.  Where've 
ye  been?  '  '  Been  at  Jill's.'  '  What  did  ye  take  her?  '  '  Take 
her?  Didn't  take  her  nothin'.  Got  somethin'  from  her,  a  goat.' 
'  Where've  ye  put  the  goat,  Jack?  '  '  In  my  pocket.'  '  That's 
stupid,  Jack.  Ye  should  have  taken  a  rope  and  tied  it  up 
in  the  stable.'     '  No  matter.     Better  next  time.' 

Where  are  ye  goin',  Jack?  '  '  To  Jill's,  mother.'  '  Keep 
your  wits  about  you.  Jack.'  '  All  right,  mother.  Now  I'm  off.' 
'  Good-by,  Jack.' 

"  Jack  comes  to  Jill.  '  Good  day,  Jill.'  '  'Day,  Jack.  Brought 
anything  for  me?'  'Haven't  brought  nothin'.  Want  some- 
thin' for  mj'self.'     Then  Jill  said,  '  Take  me  with  you!  ' 

"  Jack  takes  a  rope  and  ties  Jill  up  in  the  stable,  and  goes 
to  his  mother.  ''Evenin',  Jack,  where've  ye  been?'  'Been 
at  Jill's.'  'Take  her  anything?'  'Didn't  take  her  nothin'.' 
'What  did  she  give  ye,  then?'  'Didn't  give  me  nothin'. 
Came  herself.'  '  Where've  ye  got  her,  then  ?  '  '  Tied  up  in 
the  stable.'  '  That's  stupid,  Jack.  You  ought  to  have  stroked 
her.'     '  No  matter.     Better  next  time.' 

"  Then  Jack  goes  to  the  stable,  takes  the  currycomb,  and 
strokes  her  with  it.  Then  Jill  gets  angry,  breaks  loose,  and 
runs  away. 

"  And  so  she  became  Jack's  bride." 

"  My  word !  "  said  the  boy,  "  if  he  wasn't  a  simpleton." 

"Splendid!"  said  Lisbeth.  "See  if  it  doesn't  say  in  the 
book  where  Jack  came  from.    Wasn't  he  from  Wentorf  ?  " 

Then,  for  the  third  time,  Jorn  smote  the  table.  "  If  that's 
not  plain  speaking,  my  name's  not  Jorn  Uhl." 

"  Well,"  she  said,  "  now  it's  time  for  us  to  be  off." 

The  sun  was  already  pretty  high  as  they  drove  along  on 
the  left  of  the  hills,  and  soon  they  saw,  beneath  the  linden- 
trees  and  tall  old  apple-trees,  a  silent  little  village.  And  when 
they  stopped  in  front  of  the  first  broad  courtyard,  in  the  hope 
that  some  one  might  come  out  and  tell  them  where  Jorn's 
comrade  lived,  the  man  himself  appeared  in  the  doorway,  taller 
and  good  deal  broader  than  when  he  used  to  buckle  the  white 
leather  strap  around  his  hips  at  Rendsburg. 

"  Here's   the  man   you're  looking  for,"   he  cried.     "  Why, 


J  O  R  N     U  H  L  369 

JcJrn,  old  man,  who's  that  you've  }i;ot  sitting  next  you?  Isn't 
that?  .  .  .  Why,  man  ah've,  it's  Lisbeth  Junker,  isn't  it?  I 
haven't  seen  her  for  many  a  day." 

"Eh?"  said  Jorn,  "you  know  each  other?" 

"  Yes,  we've  seen  each  other  several  times,  but  it's  now  seven 
or  eight  years  ago." 

Lisbeth  Junker  nodded  somewhat  haughtily,  so  that  Jorn 
thought  it  could  not  be  a  very  pleasant  remembrance  for  her, 
and  determined  not  to  ask  any  further  questions. 

"  Lisbeth  and  I  are  neighbors'  children,"  said  Jorn.  "  And 
now  she's  come  over  to  Thiess  Thiessen's  on  a  visit.  1  suppose 
you  know  that  I've  given  up  the  Uhl?  " 

ifes,  I've  heard  all  about  that,  comrade,  and  about  you 
being  at  Thiess  Thiessen's.  Good  for  you  that  you've  got 
him  to  go  to,  Jorn.  Glad  to  see  you  so  jolly,  too.  Is  that 
your  doing,  Miss  Junker?" 

Lisbeth  looked  down  from  the  cart  at  him,  and  said,  "  You 
called  me  by  my  Christian  name  last  time  we  met,  so  let's 
have  no  make-believe,  and  do  it  again  to-day.  Now,  help  me 
down  from  the  cart." 

He  gave  a  good  laugh,  like  a  man  who  is  relieved  of  some 
uncertainty  and  embarrassment,  and  feels  himself  standing 
on  firm  ground  once  more.  "  You  haven't  changed  a  scrap," 
said  he.  "  Come,  jump,  lass!  "  He  loosened  the  leather  straps 
and  lifted  her  down.  "  A  barrel  of  good,  heavy  oats,"  he  said. 
"  A  good  ten-stoner,  I  should  say." 

Jorn  stood  on  the  other  side  of  the  cart,  nimbly  loosening 
the  traces,  and  said,  "  We  just  wanted  to  see  whether  we 
could  get  on  together,  so  we've  come  for  a  bit  of  a  drive." 

"So  that's  it,  is  it?"  said  his  friend.  Then  he  added,  im- 
patiently, "  Now,  just  tell  me  straight  out,  are  you  already 
engaged  or  are  you  only  thinking  of  it?  " 

"  Can't  a  man  have  a  drive  with  an  old  schoolmate  without 
people  saying  they  must  be  engaged  ?  Engaged !  Gad,  she 
gave  me  such  a  lecture  just  now  at  the  Red  Cock  that  my 
ears  tingled!  I'll  be  glad  when  I've  got  her  back  home  again," 
he  said,  with  angry  eyes. 

But  as  she  was  going  past  the  horses'  heads,  on  her  way  to 
the  house,  he  turned  around  so  as  to  make  her  pass  close  by 
him,  and  as  she  passed  he  saw  the  look  she  darted  at  him; 
her  eyes  were  just  beaming. 


370  JORN     UHL 

Then  he  saw  that  things  stood  well  with  him,  and  went  on 
unharnessing  the  horses,  whistling  the  while. 

"  It  does  one's  heart  good  to  see  you  in  such  high  spirits," 
said  his  friend,  "  and  to  hear  a  word  from  your  lips  without 
dragging  it  out  of  you.  Do  you  remember?  The  story  went 
about  afterward  that  at  Gravelotte,  on  the  i8th,  as  long  as 
we  were  under  fire  you  hadn't  uttered  a  word  except  '  Pity  to 
lose  such  a  fine  horse !  '  " 

Jorn  turned  sharply  toward  him.  "  And  I'm  sorry  to  this 
very  day,  when  I  think  of  it,"  he  said.  "  It  was  a  good,  hard- 
working beast,  and  a  mare  into  the  bargain." 

And  there  and  then  he  began  to  speak  of  the  years  long  past. 
He  was  excited  by  this  meeting  with  his  old  comrade,  and 
spoke  out  of  his  gladness  of  heart,  seeking  to  hit  on  the  old 
tone  of  familiarity,  but  without  immediately  finding  it.  Just 
as  his  body  and  soul  had  both  grown  stiff  and  clumsy  in  those 
long,  silent  years  of  heavy  toil,  all  that  he  said  had  got  a  touch 
of  affectation  and  exaggeration,  like  the  first  leaps  that  March 
lambs  make  in  the  meadows.  He  related  with  many  gestures, 
and  with  great  frankness,  that  he  had  now  neither  house  nor 
land,  and  not  a  care  in  the  world,  and  that  it  seemed  to  him 
as  though  the  lassie  inside,  Lisbeth  Junker,  was  really  a  bit 
partial  to  him,  a  thing  he  would  never  have  thought  possible. 
But  he  hadn't  the  slightest  idea,  as  yet,  he  said,  what  he  was 
going  to  turn  his  hand  to. 

The  stable-boy  came  and  took  the  horses,  and  looked  curi- 
ously at  the  big,  somewhat  round-shouldered  man,  who  had 
been  telling  about  such  weighty  things  in  his  presence.  His 
comrade  laid  his  hand  on  Jorn  Uhl's  shoulder,  and  said,  ''  Now, 
come  inside,"  and  followed  him  in,  smiling. 

His  mother,  a  stoutish  woman,  with  a  kindly  face  and  dark 
hair,  just  turning  gray,  looked  at  her  two  guests  in  a  good- 
natured,  motherly  way,  and  began  speaking  of  one  thing  and 
another.  She  spoke  of  Jorn's  father's  long  illness,  and  how 
nice  it  was  for  him  to  have  Thiess  Thiessen  to  fall  back  on. 
"  And  you're  not  so  lonesome,  neither,  Jorn ;  for  you  had 
but  to  go  a  few  steps  abroad  to  lay  your  hands  on  a  bonnie 
maid  to  bear  you  company."  Talking  in  this  way,  she  grad- 
ually forced  both  her  guests  into  the  room,  and  looked  at 
her  son  as  though  to  say:  "What  is  one  to  think  of  them? 
How  do  they  stand  toward  each  other?"     For,  according  to 


JORN     UHL  371 

the  rustic  code  in  those  parts,  everything  must  be  straightfor- 
ward and  plain,  or  the  contrary  —  pure  or  impure  —  white  or 
black  —  betrothed  or  not  betrothed.  That  was  something  that 
Jorn  Uhl  had  not  properly  taken  into  account. 

Well,  mother,"  said  her  rogue  of  a  son,  "  I  don't  know 
exactly  how  matters  stand  between  them ;  only  they're  not 
yet  engaged.  Nor  do  I  know  whose  fault  it  is  they  aren't ;  but 
I  think  everything'U  come  out  all  right.  At  any  rate,  they've 
come  here,  thinking  you  could  help  them;  for  the  whole  country- 
side knows  what  efforts  you  are  making  to  provide  your  own 
son  with  a  wife,  and  you've  a  name  as  a  match-maker." 

Then  she  shook  her  fist  at  him,  and  scolded  him  for  always 
blabbing  out  everything  one  told  him,  bidding  him  hold  his 
impudent  tongue.  But  he  only  laughed  and  said :  "  I  say, 
mother,  do  you  know  what?  You  take  this  Lisbeth  Junker 
into  the  kitchen  with  you,  and  talk  things  over,  and  I'll  go  and 
show  Jorn  Uhl  the  stables." 

So  he  took  Jorn  Uhl  by  the  arm  and  went  out  with  him. 
And  outside,  when  they  had  gone  through  the  house  and  the 
barn,  he  said  to  him:  "  I  say,  Jorn,  how  does  it  come  about 
that  you're  jaunting  through  the  country  alone  with  this  lass? 
Just  tell  me  how  affairs  stand  between  you."  And  he  pointed 
over  his  left  shoulder,  with  his  thumb  turned  in  the  direction 
of  the  kitchen,  and  winked  his  eye. 

"  Just  so,"  said  Jorn,  "  that's  the  point.  How  do  aliairs 
stand  between  us?  Perhaps  you  know?  For  I  don't.  I've 
been  mighty  fond  of  her  ever  since  I  was  a  child  ;  but  up  to 
the  present  day  I've  always  had  too  much  respect  for  her:  and 
that's  the  long  and  the  short  of  it.  All  of  us  looked  up  to  her 
so,  all  except  Fiete  Cray  —  you  remember  him,  don't  you,  that 
fellow  of  the  86th  we  met  at  Gravelotte.  But  he'd  be  hail- 
fellow-well-met  with  the  emperor  himself,  would  Fiete  Cray. 
...  I  never  thought  that  it  would  come  to  it." 

"  Come  to  what,  old  dreamy  head?  " 

"  Why,  man,  what  shall  I  say  ?  .  .  .  I  mean,  come  to  her 
taking  me  for  her  husband!  .  .  .  All  my  born  days  I'd  have 
to  take  mighty  good  care  of  my  looks,  and  go  about  ever>^ 
day  spick  and  span  in  my  Sunday  best."  He  heaved  a  great 
breath.  "Eh!  man!"  he  said,  "hut  isn't  she  a  bonnie  crea- 
ture!    And  so  grand  in  her  wa>s,  too!     I  tell  you  I  wouldn't 


372  JORN     UHL 

risk  putting  a  hand  on  her  for  the  world.  And  a  bit  cold  she 
is,  too,  I  should  think." 

His  comrade  laughed.  "What!  that  girl  cold!  She'll 
blush  as  crimson  as  any  of  'em,  mark  my  words.  She  has 
only  hidden  and  barricaded  herself  behind  those  highty-tighty 
reserved  airs  of  hers.  That's  often  the  way  with  'em.  Just 
wait  till  you've  stormed  the  fortress,  you'll  find  those  cold 
breastworks  turned  into  a  ring  of  fire.     That's  my  opinion." 

"  How  can  you  speak  in  such  a  cock-sure  way?  " 

"  H'm!  "  said  the  rogue,  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Yes,"  said  Jorn,  looking  somewhat  more  comforted. 
"  That's  true.  It  is  just  grand  how  kind  she  is  toward  me. 
It's  a  miracle,  I  say.     It's  splendid." 

But  next  moment  he  became  skeptical  again,  "  I  can't  be- 
lieve it,"  he  said.  "  You  see,  siie  was  always  the  bonniest 
thing  I  could  think  of  in  the  whole  world  —  mountains  high, 
I  tell  you,  above  me.  Her  clothes,  her  hands,  and  her  hair. 
Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that's  ordinary  hair?  And  then, 
above  all,  the  way  she  has  with  her.  Do  you  know,  I've  always 
had  the  feeling,  from  the  time  I  was  quite  a  little  fellow, 
that  she  was  like  a  wonderful  castle  on  a  high  rock,  and  I 
used  to  think  and  think,  as  I  looked  up  at  it,  of  what  beautiful 
things  must  be  hidden  away  in  it,  and  the  look  of  the  great 
rooms  from  inside.  And  now,  man,  she's  been  leading  me  by 
the  hand  from  hall  to  hall  of  it  since  the  day  before  yesterday, 
and  you  haven't  the  faintest  idea  how  splendid  it  all  is,  how 
lofty,  pure,  and  beautiful,  enough  to  make  you  hold  your  breath 
with  delight.  And  then  look  at  me.  What  am  I?  I've  got 
nothing;  can  do  nothing;  am  nothing.  You  know  how  every- 
body gossips  about  me,  and  says  what  an  odd  fish  I  am.  Only 
a  few  days  ago  in  the  village  street  I  heard  one  child  say  to 
another,  '  Look,  that's  the  man  that  can  read  the  stars  and 
tell  when  any  one's  going  to  die,  and  when  there's  going  to 
be  a  war.'  I've  always  been  difficult  to  get  on  with,  as  you 
know.  And  what  hands  I  have !  Just  look  at  them.  So 
big  and  so  empty.  What  does  a  princess  want  to  marry  a 
farmer's  boy  for?  " 

"Well,  you  are  a  duller!  Just  put  out  your  hand  and 
you've  got  her." 

"  Do  you  really  think  so?  " 

"  I  know  the  varmints,"  said  his  comrade,  airily. 


JORN     UHL  373 


<< 


She's  no  varmint.     W^hat  are  you  talking  about?" 

He  shrugged  his  slioulclers.  "  She's  not  so  different  from 
the  rest  of  'em.  Maybe  she's  a  bit  livelier  because  she's  a  bit 
cleverer." 

Leaving  this  theme,  they  began  to  talk  about  horses,  and 
Jorn's  friend  had  two  four-year-olds  led  out,  and  grew  excited 
when  he  saw  that  Jorn  Uhl  would  not  praise  them  as  unre- 
servedly as  he  wished. 

"  Take  them  in  again,"  he  cried  to  the  boy.  "  I  don't  want 
to  look  at  them  again." 

"  Just  tell  me,"  said  Jorn,  "  where  did  you  get  to  know  her?  " 

Then  his  friend  lifted  his  eyebrows,  and,  still  sore  at  Jorn's 
faint  praise  of  his  horses,  said,  "  Ask  her.  Perhaps  she'll  tell 
you,  perhaps  she  won't." 

"  Tell  me  yourself.     It's  absurd  of  you  to  make  a  secret  of  it." 

I'hen  the  other  laughed,  and  went  to  the  kitchen  door,  and 
shouted  into  the  room,  "Hey,  Lisbeth !  Here's  Jorn  Uhl 
wants  to  know  where  1  got  to  know  you.  Shall  I  tell  him  or 
not?" 

Lisbeth  Junker,  who  was  standing  near  the  fireside,  tossed 
her  head  and  said,  "Tell  what  you  like!  " 

"  Be  off  out  of  this,"  his  mother  cried,  pretending  to  seize 
the  tongs. 

So  he  returned  to  Jorn.  "  Well,"  said  he,  "  if  you  really 
must  know,  it  happened  like  this.  Six  or  seven  years  ago,  soon 
after  the  war,  I  was  in  town  with  the  cart.  It  must  have 
been  the  middle  of  summer.  And  as  I  was  driving  home  in 
the  dusk,  who  should  I  meet  at  the  end  of  the  village  but 
Lisbeth  Junker.  I'd  seen  her  sometimes  on  my  way  to  the 
Grammar  School  when  she  was  going  to  the  Cliff  School.  So 
I  pulled  up  and  asked  her  how  she  was.  You  know  we  had 
the  French  campaign  behind  us,  and  were  a  bit  proud  and 
bold  toward  everybody,  including  girls.  I  had  a  chat  with 
her,  and  was  mighty  pleased  to  sec  how  trustfully  she  looked 
up  at  me  with  her  dear  little  fair  face.  She  told  me  she  was 
waiting  for  old  Dieck's  cart.  He  had  promised  to  take  her 
with  him  to  Wentorf. 

Oh,'  said  I,  '  you'll  have  the  deuce  of  a  while  to  wait. 
Do  you  know  what?  Just  jump  up  by  me  and  I'll  drive  around 
by  St.  Mariendonn.  I  don't  mind  going  a  bit  out  of  my  way 
if  you're  by  my  side.'     For  I  thought  to  myself,  '  Egad,  you've 


374  JORN     UHL 

driven  often  enough  alone,  you  may  as  well  make  yourself 
cosy  for  once.' 

"  She  took  pretty  long  thinking  the  matter  over,  and  wouldn't 
accept  at  once.  She  looked  up  at  me  a  bit  doubtfully,  but 
I  did  my  best  to  persuade  her. 

"  First  I  was  offended,  then  I  was  humble.  I  joked  at  her, 
and  teased  her,  and  grew  angry  by  turns,  but  I  believe  she 
was  only  half-listening  as  she  gazed  at  me  attentively.  Suddenly, 
when  I  was  just  trying  to  think  of  a  new  dodge,  she  said, 
'  Make  room  for  me,'  and  there  she  was  sitting  beside  me,  and 
I  drew  a  long  breath  and  thought  to  myself,  '  Good.  We've  got 
so  far.'  I  tried  to  puzzle  out  what  would  be  my  best  move 
next,  and  I  thought  to  myself  what  a  nice,  smart  little  piece 
of  work  it  would  have  to  be  if  I  was  to  succeed,  for  she  was 
well  known  among  all  of  us  as  a  girl  who  kept  men  at  arm's 
length. 

"  So  I  went  on  chatting  as  well  as  I  could,  talking  about 
things  that  I  thought  would  please  her.  That  was  the  first 
time  that  Gravelotte  stood  me  in  good  stead.  But  when  she 
made  any  remark,  I  agreed  with  her,  and  backed  her  up  right 
and  left.  She  was  in  good  spirits,  and  I  saw  that  I  had  made 
a  favorable  impression.  But  I  wasn't  at  all  sure  of  my  ground 
and  couldn't  find  a  way  of  introducing  the  subjects  I  wanted  to 
talk  about,  however  much  I  might  puzzle  my  brains.  I  was 
afraid  she  would  get  a  dreadful  fright  and  think  ill  of  me, 
and  be  offended  with  me  as  long  as  I  lived.  And  I  should 
have  been  sorry  for  that,  for  she  was  a  fine  and  bonnie  lass 
that  one  couldn't  help  respecting  as  soon  as  one  set  eyes  on  her 
pure,  beautiful  face.  But  that's  the  way  with  us.  That's  the 
sort  of  girl   that  seems  worth  the  trouble  of  winning. 

"  Well,  we  had  almost  reached  Wentorf.  \'ou  know,  there 
where  the  road  turns  off  to  Gudendorf,  and  it  had  grown 
quite  dark.  So  I  thought  to  myself  I'd  better  make  a  start 
if  it  wasn't  to  be  labor  in  vain.  So  I  began  very  warily,  my 
heart  beating  like  a  sledge-hammer.  '  I  say,  Lisbeth  Junker,' 
said  I,  '  you're  driving  with  me  now,  aren't  you?  ' 

"  *  Yes,'  says  she,  laughing. 

"  '  Well,  you  see,  when  any  one  else  gets  a  lift  in  my  cart, 
he  says,  "  Come  and  let's  drop  in  at  the  So  and  So  Inn  and 
have  a  glass  of  something  at  my  expense."  Well,  we  can't 
do  that,  can  we?     No,  you'd  be   talked   about,  and,  besides, 


JORN     UHL  37S 

I  doubt  whether  there  are  lights  in  the  place.  Now  think 
it  out  for  yourself,  what  you  can  give  me,  for  it  would  be  a 
painful  thought  for  you  afterward  to  think  that  you'd  had 
a  drive  with  me  and  given  me  nothing  for  it.  Look  you, 
you're  driving  with  me  once  for  all,  so  that  can't  be  altered.' 
Well,"  she  said,  laughing,  '  tell  me  straight  out  what  you 
want.'  Then  1  risked  it  and  said,  '  Well,  if  you  promise  not 
to  take  it  amiss,  little  lass,  I'd  like  a  kiss,  and,  if  possible,  a 
few  more.  For  Heaven's  sake,  though,  don't  be  afraid.  Sit 
still  where  you  are;  you  needn't  jump  out.  If  you're  not 
willing,  I'll  leave  you  as  unmolested  as  my  old  grandame  when 
I  drive  her  to  church  of  a  Sunday.  Only  don't  be  oliended.' 
-.  "  That's  about  the  drift  of  what  I  said. 

"  For  awhile  she  sat  there  without  saying  a  word,  as  though 
she  were  thinking  what  to  do,  and  I  heard  her  soft  breathing 
and  was  beginning  to  repent  of  what  I'd  said,  and  to  think 
of  sounding  the  retreat,  when  she  said  slowly  and  in  a  low- 
voice:  '  I  well  know  that  you  men  often  brag  about  it  after- 
ward when  a  girl  gives  way  to  you.  I'll  let  you  kiss  me 
because  you're  such  a  kind,  nice  fellow.  But  you  must  solemnly 
promise  me  that  jou'U  never  tell  any  one.'  1  tell  >ou,  Jorn,  it 
pretty  well  took  my  breath  away.  I  had  to  give  her  my  hand 
and  say  the  words  after  her,  and  I  believe  after  doing  so  I 
would  have  sat  there  a  good  uhile  stiff  and  awkward  beside 
her,  if  she  hadn't  put  her  hands  up  to  her  face,  whether  to  weep 
or  to  laugh  I  hadn't  the  faintest  idea.  So  I  just  took  her  pink 
little  face  between  my  hands,  with  a  fond  word,  and,  Jorn,  .  .  . 
she  was  as  sweet  as  could  be.  We  kissed  and  chatted  to  our 
heart's  content.  The  horses  munched  the  grass  along  the  road- 
side, and  the  cart  stood  right  across  the  track,  but  we  didn't 
bother  ourselves  one  jot  about  it.  At  Ringelshorn  she  got 
down.  '  Lisbeth,'  I  said,  when  she  was  standing  on  the  heath 
near  the  cart,  '  I  liked  it  tremendously.  Be  a  good  little  lass 
and  tell  me  what  evening  next  week  I  can  come  to  Wentorf 
and  wait  for  you  down  by  the  willows  in  the  school-garden.' 
But  she  only  shook  her  head,  and  said,  '  I  ought  to  thank  you 
for  having  been  a  dear  good  lad  to  me,  but  I'd  advise  you  to 
keep  away  from  the  school-garden.  I'm  too  good  for  any  mere 
sweethearting,  and  I  haven't  the  slightest  intention  of  marrying 
you,  for  I  love  some  one  else,  a  man  I'll  never  get.'  I  called 
her  a  little  witch  and  other  pretty  names,  and  had  to  make 


376  JORN     UHL 

the  best  of  it.  She  went  away  down  the  hill  slope  toward 
the  Goldsoot.  Since  then  I  have  only  seen  her  once  at  the 
railway  station.  She  came  up  and  spoke  to  me  as  if  I  were 
her  own  brother.  I  can  tell  you  I  am  glad  to  this  very  day 
when  I  think  of  that  adventure.  I  never  went  to  the  school- 
garden,  for  in  those  days  I  had  no  idea  of  marrying." 

So  said  Jorn's  comrade,  throwing  a  roguish  inquisitive  glance 
first  toward  Jorn,  and   then  toward  the  kitchen. 

Meanwhile  Lisbeth  Junker  was  sitting  on  the  turf-box  near 
the  fireplace,  and  the  woman  wiih  the  shining,  dark  gray  hair 
was  saying,  "  Now,  tell  me  straight  out !  What  is  between 
you?  Of  Jorn  Uhl  I've  heard  all  sorts  of  things.  He's  a  bit 
odd  in  his  ways,  and  likes  peering  at  the  stars  and  thinking 
about  things  that  a  farmer's  got  no  business  with.  He's  stifiE 
and  awkward,  too,  and  unpractical  and  gruff;  to  put  it  short, 
a  Grammar  School  farmer.  But  one  thing  I'll  tell  you,  he's 
a  son  any  mother  might  be  proud  to  own.  Oh,  yes,  what  I  say 
is  true  enough,  so  you  needn't  open  your  eyes  so  wide.  That 
stupid  boy  of  mine  often  tells  me  if  Jorn  was  my  son  how 
delighted  I'd  be.  Well,  to  come  to  the  point,  are  you  engaged 
to  him?  " 

Lisbeth  looked  up  from  her  seat  on  the  peat-box  and  dis- 
covered that  she  had  no  reason  to  hide  the  cause  of  her  emotion. 
For  eight  years  her  heart  had  been  full  of  Jorn  Uhl,  but 
since  the  day  before  yesterday  it  had  been  overflowing.  So, 
like  a  little  child  that  gives  its  hand  to  strangers,  at  first  shyly, 
with  frightened  eyes,  and  hesitatingly,  but  afterward  grows 
confiding  and  frank,  Lisbeth  Junker  began  to  speak  about  her 
mother,  the  schoolmaster's  unhappy  daughter,  and  about  her 
own  girlhood  at  the  house  of  her  kindly  old  grandparents,  and 
about  her  playmate  Jorn  Uhl  and  his  strange  ways,  and  she 
couldn't  get  any  further  than  Jorn  Uhl,  Jorn  Uhl,  Jorn  Uhl. 
.  .  .  Nothing  but  Jorn  Uhl.  "  I  have  always  loved  him,  but 
at  first  he  was  too  thin  and  too  stupid  for  my  taste.  After- 
ward I  would  have  been  dreadfully  in  love  with  him,  but 
then  he  married  some  one  else.  Oh,  what  I  went  through 
in  those  days!  Tlicn  she  died,  and  I  could  have  loved  him 
ever  so  much,  but  then  came  all  that  misery  with  his  father 
and  brothers,  seven  long  years  of  it.  IT<"  didn't  have  a  single 
thought  left  for  me.     And  now  ...  it  looks  almost  as  if  .  .  . 


JORN     UHL  377 

Wliy!     Do  you  know,  yesterday  he  plajed  marbles  with  me, 
and  he's  thirty-one  and  I'm  twenty-six!  " 

The  goodwife  at  the  fireside  clasped  her  hands  on  her 
breast.  "Child,  child,"  she  said,  "what  a  wonderful  story! 
In  my  whole  life  I've  only  read  a  single  tale  called  'The 
Hangman's  Daughter  and  Her  Earrings,'  but  what  you've 
been  telling  me  might  be  out  of  a  book.  But  who  knows 
what'll  come  of  it  all?  When  I  married  I  was  eighteen  and 
he  was  twenty-five.  I  was  sensible  and  he  wasn't.  He  was 
just  as  wild  as  that  boy  of  his  out  there.  So  I  had  to  be 
extra  grave  and  serious.  So  I've  grown  to  what  I  am  now, 
a  bit  too  sharp  and  scolding.  By  nature  I  was  soft-hearted 
enough." 

"  If  I  only  knew,"  said  Lisbeth,  "whether  he'll  have  me  or 
not.  He  has  neither  farm  nor  money,  hut  I'd  have  him  to- 
morrow just  as  he  is,  even  if  I  had  to  live  with  him  at  the 
Haze,  yes,  even  if  I  had  to  dig  turf  with  him,  I'd  be  ever 
so  happy.  But  he  won't  do  that.  He'll  go  away  somewhere 
or  other  and  start  son)e  new  enterprise,  and  who  knows  what 
may  come  between  us  then?  "  she  said,  despondingly,  gazing  into 
the  fire  with  streaming  eyes. 

"Nonsense!"  said  the  otlier,  with  an  impatient  gesture, 
"  don't  you  worry  yourself  now,  but  just  take  care  and  make 
him  settle  the  matter  to-day.     Then  it  will  be  all  right." 

Lisbeth  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  to  hide  the  crimson 
that  streamed  over  it,  at  once  terrified  and  delighted  at  the 
thought.  "  He  won't  do  it  yet,"  she  said,  doubtingly,  "  be- 
cause he  doesn't  know  what  his  plans  for  the  future  may  be. 
But  so  much  is  certain,  at  least,  —  he  won't  marry  any  one  else." 

The  v.omen  talked  on  in  this  strain  till  all  the  inmates  of 
the  house,  together  with  the  guests,  were  seated  around  the 
heavily-laden  farmer's  board,  the  head  servant-girl  at  her 
mistress's  side,  the  son  opposite,  and  beside  him  the  farm-hand 
and  then  the  remaining  servants. 

"  You've  done  my  boy  a  lot  of  good,"  said  the  goodwife, 
"  as  long  as  you  were  soldiers  together,  first  in  peace,  then  in 
war.     He  was  a  bit  of  a  good-for-nothing,  I'm  afraid." 

"  Yes,"  said  Jorn,  "  he  was,  but  one  of  the  sort  one  likes." 

"  That's  the  "worst  of  it,"  said  she.  "  One  can't  be  angry  with 
him,  at  least,  not  for  long.  If  one  wants  to  vent  one's  anger  on 
him,  one  must  do  it  at  once,  or  else  it's  impossible.     Believe 


378  JORN     UHL 

me,  I'm  sick  of  getting  out  of  temper  with  him.  I  wish  he'd 
choose  a  good  wife  for  himself  and  be  done  with  it." 

"  Mother,"  said  he,  "  only  yesterday  you  told  me  I'd  grown 
more  sensible  and  steadier  this  last  year." 

"  Yes,  that's  true  enough,  Jorn.  That  he  is.  This  last 
year  he's  been  a  bit  better,  but  he'll  never  come  to  any  good 
till  he  marries." 

"  I  don't  want  to  marry,"  said  the  rogue.  "  Do  you  know 
what,  mother?  You  get  married  yourself.  You're  not  too  old 
yet.     Then  you'll  have  some  one  in  the  house  to  help  you." 

Then  she  stretched  across  the  table  with  the  wooden  spoon 
she  had  in  her  hand,  and,  in  spite  of  his  effort  to  avoid  it, 
gave  him  a  sharp  rap  on  his  curly  head,  so  that  the  bowl  of 
the  spoon  snapped  off  short. 

"  I'll  teach  you  to  make  fun  of  your  mother.  Gretchen, 
bring  another  spoon." 

The  servants  laughed  a  little,  but  appeared  to  be  familiar 
with  such  occurrences. 

"  He's  been  to  three  different  schools,  and  to  two  different 
pastors,"  she  scolded,  "  but  he's  come  back  home  the  same 
as  he  went  away,  without  seriousness  and  without  interest  in 
anything.  I  thought  he'd  have  been  better  after  he  came 
home  from  the  war.  But  the  first  thing  he  did  on  the  station 
when  he  came  back  was  to  pick  me  up  in  his  arms  and  carry 
me  through  all  that  crowd  of  people  to  the  cart.  Since  that 
day  I've  broken  many  a  spoon  over  him.  I  don't  know  what'll 
be  the  end  of  it,  I'm  sure.  He  neither  drinks  nor  gambles,  nor 
does  he  idle  away  his  time,  but  he'll  never  take  things  seriously." 

"  She  takes  everything  I  do  and  say  the  wrong  way." 

She  looked  at  him  and  shook  her  head.  "  His  father  was 
just  the  same,"  she  said.  "  What  I  had  to  put  up  with  in  that 
man.  I  couldn't  take  a  step  in  the  house  without  being  teased 
and  kissed  and  pulled  about.  He  was  always  interrupting  my 
work  with  some  silly  trick  or  other.  You  couldn't  get  a  serious 
word  out  of  him.  He  turned  everything  to  ridicule.  In  the 
early  years  of  our  marriage  I  often  used  to  think  to  myself: 
'  If  this  goes  on  for  thirty  years,  I'll  never  be  old,  but  on 
the  other  hand  I'll  never  get  a  moment's  peace.'  But  later 
on,  when  we'd  been  married  some  ten  years  or  so,  he  altered, 
just  as  if  he'd  turned  over  a  new  page  in  his  life.  No  one 
would  have  believed  it  possible.    He  took  an  interest  in  dealing 


JORN     UHL  379 

and  bartering,  put  a  lot  of  capital  into  peat-digging,  and 
started  a  tile-factory,  which  he  again  sold  later  on.  He  was 
oftencr  on  the  roads,  too,  than  1  liked,  and  was  a  great  deal 
too  much  v\rapped  up  with  his  work  and  with  money-getting 
to  please  me.  And  if  1  interfered  with  him,  he  would  say 
he  had  no  time,  with  a  '  Go  away,  child,  I've  other  things  to 
think  about  just  now!'  About  me  he  troubled  himself  but 
little.  The  most  he  did  was  to  stroke  my  head  once  or  twice 
when  he  came  home,  saying,  '  What  smooth,  glossy  hair  you 
have,  mother!  And  you  keep  the  whole  farm  just  as  neat 
as  your  hair.'  Strangers  sometimes  said  to  me,  '  What  a  good- 
tempered,  jolly  husband  you've  got!'  They  spoke  of  a  man 
unknown  to  me.  1  had  once  had  such  a  husband,  perhaps, 
but  now  it  was  as  good  as  none  at  all  that  I  had.  It  runs 
in  the  family.  That  sort  of  man  never  reaches  years  of  dis- 
cretion before  he's  thirty.  I  believe  it  will  be  the  same  with 
my  son  there." 

Lisbeth  Junker  bent  over  the  table  and  looked  at  the  young 
man  with  eyes  half-sympathetic,  half-mischievous.  "  Can  you 
trace  any  signs  of  discretion  budding  in  you  yet?  "  she  asked. 

"As  for  discretion,  just  you  look  to  your  own,  lassie,"  he 
said.  "  It's  not  so  many  years  ago  that  it  was  in  as  bad  a 
plight  as  mine." 

She  reddened  and  tossed  her  head  and  then  gave  a  short  laugh, 
but  refrained  from  looking  Jorn's  way. 

After  dinner  he  took  the  two  of  them  w  ith  him  and  led 
them  through  the  fields,  showing  them  the  lands  which  be- 
longed to  the  farm.  Here  he  pointed  out  a  field  of  his,  there 
a  meadow,  and  in  between  these  explanations  he  told  them 
of  merry  pranks  the  soldiers  played  during  his  campaigning 
days,  and  about  a  hne  trip  he  had  had  once  upon  a  time  to 
Hamburg  and  Berlin,  and  teased  Lisbeth.  When  Jorn  Uhl 
wanted  to  hear  a  word  about  the  farming  of  this  or  that 
field,  he  laughed,  and  put  the  question  aside,  saying,  "  Oh, 
nonsense!    That's  mother's  business." 

At  last  when  they  had  gone  a  good  distance  from  the  village, 
and  Lisbeth  would  have  liked  to  turn  back,  he  urged  them 
to  go  a  little  farther,  to  a  hilltop  that  lay  a  little  aside  from 
the  path.  When  they  had  reached  it,  he  pointed  out  to  them 
that  this  great  field  stretched  as  far  as  the  river  Au,  whose 


38o  J  O  R  N     U  H  L 

bright  waters  lay  broad   and  still  before  them,   and  was  his 
property. 

"  It's  not  worth  much,"  said  Jorn  Uhl. 

"Not  worth  much?"  said  his  comrade.  "You  mean  no 
good  for  grazing  and  ploughing?"  He  stamped  his  heel  into 
the  light  earth.  "  But  just  look  what's  under  it.  Just  dig 
down  five  feet,  what  is  there  then,  eh  ?  " 

"  Well?  "  said  Jorn  Uhl.     "  What  then?  " 
"  Clay,  my  lad,  a  mighty  stratum  of  the  finest  clay." 
"Clay?" 

"  Clay,  man !  "  cried  his  comrade,  "  and  from  clay  you  make 
pottery  and  cement." 
"  You  don't  say  so!  " 

"Well,   do  you  see,  Jorn?      Do  you   see,   Lisbeth  Junker? 

Just  wait  two  years  more  and  you'll  see  clay-fields  opened  here. 

bown    to    Lowrie's.      Wire    rope  ...  eh?      Then    in    barges 

down   the  Au,   and   if   they  won't   give  me  enough   for   it   in 

.  Legerdorf,  I'll  build  a  cement  factory  for  myself!" 

"  Well,"  said  Jorn,  "  go  in  and  win."  Then  he  glanced  at 
the  gray,  sandy  earth,  and  from  it  to  the  Au  below  them. 

"  You  see,  it's  like  this.  I  understand  nothing  about  the 
cement-making  business,  therefore  I  must  either  engage  a  tech- 
nical man  or  must  go  to  Hanover  to  some  place  or  other  myself, 
and  learn  it." 

Lisbeth  laughed.  "  See,"  she  said,  mockingly,  "  why,  you're 
getting  a  bit  of  discretion  already."  But  Jorn  Uhl  seemed 
quite  absorbed  in  his  own  thoughts.  His  eyes  were  fixed  on 
the  ground,  and  he  said  not  a  word  more. 

When  they  were  back  home,  Lisbeth  went  through  the 
garden  with  the  housewife,  but  Jorn  went  to  his  friend's  room, 
where  the  latter  had  managed  to  fish  out  a  couple  of  books 
he  had  recently  purchased,  one  on  mineralogy,  the  other  a 
special  theory  about  the  working  of  clay-pits.  He  struck  his 
hand  on  the  table  and  said,  wrathfully,  "  What  a  shame  it  is 
tliat  I  was  so  lazy  at  school!  There  I  stand,  now,  perfectly 
helpless,  like  the  ox  before  the  barn  door."  He  pitched  the 
book  over  to  Jorn,  saying,  "  Of  course,  you  can  understand 
it  all,  though  nobody  troubled  himself  a  jot  about  your  edu- 
cation. You  have  helped  yourself  on  further  than  I,  and  you 
understand   ten   times  as  much   as   I   do,  who   have   had   five 


JORN     UHL  38r 

hundred  pounds  wasted  on  me.  Open  the  book  at  page  350. 
Can  you  understand  it?  " 

Jcirn  understood  it  and  explained  it  all  to  his  comrade. 
lie  also  took  tiie  other  book  and  was  able  to  teach  him  out 
of  it,  too.  His  comrade  forgot  his  anger  and  cheered  up,  say- 
ing, "Why!  old  chap,  jou  must  come  again  next  week  and 
let  us  have  some  more  talk  about  it." 

Jorn  Uhl  nodded,  and  asked  about  the  regulations  of  a 
certain  technical  school,  and  how  long  one  would  have  to 
study  there  in  order  to  get  a  certificate.  At  last  he  sat  quite 
silent,  with  compressed  lips.  It  was  a  strange  sight  to  see 
his  great,  brown,  horny  iist  lying  upon  that  new,  grand- 
looking  book.  The  book  looked  so  small  beneath  it,  like  a 
mere  plaything. 

Jorn  and  Lisbeth  started  so  as  to  be  well  on  the  way  toward 
home  before  dusk.  Ihe  housewife  took  Jorn  aside  and  told 
him  hovv^  pleased  she  was  with  Lisbeth,  and  talked  to  him 
in  a  motherly  fashion,  saying  that  he  should  trust  in  the  future 
and  no  longer  put  oft"  his  betrothal.  He  would  be  sure  to 
be  able  to  earn  his  living  somewhere  or  other,  and  she  hoped 
he  would  soon  come  to  see  them  again.  Her  son  had  been  so 
sensible  to-day,  she  said.  In  the  kitchen  he  had  stood  with 
the  tongs  in  his  hand  and  asked  her  to  help  Jorn  Uhl  with  a 
little  mone}'.  So  let  Jorn  come  when  he  would,  a  few  thousand 
marks  would  always  be  at  his  disposal,  for  whatever  he  wanted 
to  buy  or  whatever  business  he  wanted  to  start  with  them. 

Jorn  Uhl  tried  to  thank  her,  but  he  could  not.  His  eyes 
were  bright  as  he  nodded  to  her,  and  he  shook  the  thrifty 
housewife's  hand  for  a  long  time  as  they  said  good-by,  and  she 
knew  by  the  way  he  pressed  it  what  he  wanted  to  say. 

The  sun  was  low  on  the  horizon  when  they  reached  the 
highroad  once  more. 

"  Well,"  said  Lisbeth,  "  now  we're  quite  alone  again.  It 
has  been  a  delightful  day,  and  the  drive  home  is  delightful, 
too.  .  .  .  What  do  you  say  to  the  good  lady  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  say  to  her  son  ?  " 

"Oh,  him?  .  .  .  What  was  that  his  mother  was  saying  to 
you  just  before  we  started?" 

"  Tush!    Some  old  wife's  gossip,  you  may  be  sure." 

"  Won't  you  tell  me  what  it  was?  " 


382  JORN     UHL 

"  No,  not  to-day.  To-morrow,  perhaps."  He  began  to 
ponder,  and  they  drove  on  in  silence. 

After  they  had  sat  thus  a  good  while  he  noticed  her  peculiar 
demeanor,  like  that  of  a  person  in  a  mood  of  self-defence  or 
refusal.  He  looked  up  and  saw  her  face  full  of  pride.  "  Come," 
he  said,  "what  is  tlie  matter,  Lisbeth?  Out  with  it.  Rain- 
tweet!     Just  tell  me  what  the  little  lass  is  thinking  about." 

"  Do  you  think  I  didn't  see  out  of  the  kitchen  window  what 
that  nice  comrade  of  yours  was  telling  you  of  his  experiences, 
with  such  gestures,  too,  and  now  you're  angry.  And  I  must 
say  I  wouldn't  have  thought  it  of  you,  Jorn." 

He  laughed.  "  You  are  on  the  wrong  track  entirely,  Lis- 
beth, for  I  was  glad  about  it.  Does  one  get  angry,  think  you, 
with  a  man  whom  one  meets  on  the  way  and  asks,  '  How 
far  is  it  to  so-and-so?  I  hear  it's  seven  miles.'  And  who 
answers,  '  No,  it's  only  a  few  steps  further.'  I'm  glad,  I  tell 
you.     For  now  I  know  you're  not  a  mere  prude." 

"  Oh,  you  and  your  prudery!  He  came  driving  by  and  was 
kind  and  good  to  me,  and  he  looked  so  clean  and  frank,  and  so 
he  kissed  me." 

"  He  is  a  lout!  "  said  Jorn  Uhl.  "  I  tell  you,  he's  a  lout,  to 
kiss  a  girl  who  can't  defend  herself." 

"Defend  myself?  I  didn't  try  to!  It  happened  just  as 
I  W'anted  it." 

"  It  was  a  piece  of  downright  blackguardism.  That  you 
must  admit.  What,  you!  The  proudest  girl  in  all  the  land! 
Alone  with  that  fellow  for  hours  on  the  highroad !  " 

"  It  was  about  the  time,  Jorn,  when  you  got  married  to 
Lena  Tarn." 

He  was  silent.  After  a  little  while  he  caught  her  hand 
and  held  it  tight  and  said,  "  Dear  old  Lisbeth,  I  didn't  know 
anything  about  all  that." 

Speaking  with  diflficulty  and  with  tears  in  her  voice,  she  said, 
"  You  were  like  '  Knowing  Jack  '  in  the  story,  Jorn." 

"  You  just  see,  Lisbeth.  If  you  really  and  truly  have  enough 
courage,  you'll  be  married,  too,  before  long.     You  just  see!  " 

"  There's  one  thing:    I'll  never  marry  a  man  who  bores  me." 

Jorn  Uhl  laughed,  and  turned  toward  her,  saying,  "  Shall 
I  let  the  horses  graze  a  little  by  the  roadside,  like  that  fellow 
did  years  ago  on  the  Meldorf  Road  ?  " 


J  0  R  N     U  H  L  383 

She  shook  her  head  and  looked  at  him  tlirough  eyes  shining 
with  tears.     "  It  won't  do,  Jorn.     It's  still  broad  daylight." 

"Is  that  all?" 

She  again  shook  her  head.  "  Not  here,  Jurgen.  It's  nut 
for  us  two  to  act  like  that.  I'm  thinking  of  Lena  Tarn  and 
her  child."     She  laid  her  hand  firmly  in  his. 

He  nodded  and  said,  '"  It's  a  miracle.  A  downright  miracle. 
The  finest  girl  in  all  the  land,  and  Jorn  Uhl,  together.  No 
man  has  ever  gone  storming  into  the  sun  with  such  giant  strides 
as  I,  in  these  three  days.  Look,  Lisbcth,  we  are  driving 
straight  into  the  sun!  Oh,  if  I  only  knew  what  to  lay  my 
hand  to!  " 

He  grew  silent  again,  and  she  let  him  have  his  way.  But 
when  they  turned  into  the  soft  sand  road,  and  it  grew  dark, 
she  shifted  a  little  on  the  seat  as  though  she  were  not  com- 
fortable. So  he  put  the  whip  into  the  socket  and  put  his 
arm  around  her  and  drew  her  close  to  his  side,  looking  shyly 
into  her  face.     "  Do  you  like  sitting  like  this?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  and  snuggled  closer  to  his  shoulder.  "  Now 
I'll  go  to  sleep."  But  she  thought  to  herself,  "  Just  catch  me 
going  to  sleep!  I'll  take  precious  good  care  not  to  sleep  away 
an  hour  like  this." 

Jorn  Uhl  sat  still  and  stiff  as  a  post  and  watched  the  trot- 
ting horses  and  thought  on  his  future  and  hers,  fancying  in 
his  honest  way  that  she  was  asleep.  But  she,  leaning  against 
him,  looked  with  great,  clear,  motionless  eyes  toward  one  single 
point. 

When  they  pulled  up  at  the  big  door  of  Haze  Farm,  he 
said,  "  Now  go  away  to  bed,  Lisbeth.  You're  tired.  To- 
morrow we'll  talk  the  matter  over." 

She  remained  standing  near  him,  as  though  she  had  still 
something  to  say  to  him.  Then  he  stroked  her  cheek  and  said, 
"  Don't  be  downhearted,  Lisbeth,  everA'thing  will  come  right 
in  time."    Then  she  went  away  without  saying  a  word. 

After  he  had  attended  to  the  horses,  he  went  into  the  sit- 
ting-room, still  deep  in  thought.  "  I  know  now  what  the  cause 
of  the  trouble  has  been  all  these  years.  It's  been  something 
wrong  in  me  mjself.  ...  I  have  always  hated  all  make- 
believe  and  hypocrisy;  in  my  father  and  brothers  and  in  many 
another  man  I've  seen  what  harm  self-deception  does  when 
a  man  in  his  thought  and  action  leaves  what  is  real  and  true. 


384  JORN     UHL 

And  I  have  seen  how  widespread  the  evil  is,  and  from  the 
time  I  was  eighteen  up  till  now,  I  have  always  said  to  myself 
in  my  pride,  '  That's  a  fault,  Jorn  Uhl,  that  you're  free  from.' 
But  in  these  three  days  it  has  become  clear  to  me,  and  I  see 
now  that  1  myself  have  lived  in  self-deception  and  lies,  and 
got  on  the  wrong  track  entirely.  Yes,  I,  Jorn  Uhl,  haven't 
looked  myself  and  my  affairs  straight  in  the  face;  I  have  never 
known  myself.  I  have  clung  to  the  Uhl,  which  didn't  belong 
to  me,  and  thereby  have  continued  the  lie  the  same  as  my 
father  and  brothers  did,  and  so  I  have  shared  their  misfortunes. 
I  have  worked  and  worked  like  a  horse  at  a  coal-winch,  and 
yet  have  always  been  over  head  and  ears  in  worry.  I  thought 
that  my  life's  task  was  to  save  the  Uhl.  The  Uhl?  And 
what  is  the  Uhl,  I'd  like  to  know.  What  is  the  Uhl  compared 
with  my  own  soul  ?  And  compared  with  Lena  Tarn's  soul  ? 
And  what  though  a  man  should  gain  the  whole  world  and 
hurt  his  soul!  Who  is  there  that  would  heal  the  hurt  for  him? 
My  soul  has  grown  hard  within  me,  and  Lena  Tarn's  dead 
and  old  Wieten's  hair  is  white  as  snow.  I  began  at  the  top, 
away  up  there  at  the  proud  Uhl,  and  since  then  I've  sunk  and 
sunk.  If  I  had  stayed  here  at  the  Haze,  or  had  settled  down 
on  some  other  little  Geest  farm,  or  had  taken  in  hand  some 
modest  work,  with  my  own  strength,  then  Lena  Tarn  would 
have  been  well  looked  after,  and  Wieten  would  not  have  been  so 
old  and  white,  and  I  would  have  been  able  to  sing  as  I  did 
when  I  was  a  boy,  and  these  fits  of  passion  would  not  have 
come  over  me.  And  then  we'd  have  had  some  real  ground  to 
stand  on,  and  would  have  worked  up  to  something  respectable. 
To  begin  modestly,  that's  the  chief  thing.  To  begin  from  the 
lowest  rung  of  the  ladder.  And  that's  what  I  am  going  to  do 
now,  as  true  as  God  helps  me.  I'll  begin  with  playing  marbles, 
and  will  be  a  child  like  the  Boatman  and  my  comrade  over 
there." 

He  lit  a  candle  and  went  to  the  chest  which  stood  in  one 
corner,  and  began  hunting  out  one  thing  after  another  till 
the  floor  around  him  was  covered  with  books,  maps,  glasses, 
and  telescopes.  He  pulled  up  a  chair,  opened  first  one  book 
and  then  another,  and  settled  down  to  it  as  industrious  school- 
boj's  do,  holding  the  hook  before  him  like  a  ten-year-old  lad 
learning  his  lesson  by  heart.  Then  he  laughed  to  himself  and 
let  the  book  sink.     "  Faith,  it's  an  odd  sort  of  student  you'll 


JORN     UHL  385 

be!  "  he  said.  "  It's  a  student  who  will  handle  a  drawing- 
pencil  like  a  spade,  and  make  the  compasses  swing  around  as 
if  he'd  got  hold  of  a  plough-handle.  He'll  gulp  down  science 
like  a  thirsty  soldier  does  cool  water  on  a  hot  day,  and  he'll 
open  his  eyes  wide  like  a  hunter  lurking  around  a  fox's  den 
in  the  twilight.  Is  it  really  possible,  though?  All  these  things 
that  were  my  stolen  pleasure,  yes,  my  downright  stolen  pleas- 
ure, from  the  time  I  was  a  child,  shall  I  now  be  allowed  to 
love  them  openl\  and  honestly,  like  a  trusted  lover?  I  say,  is 
it  possible?  Shall  I  be  able  to  look  into  books  in  broad  daylight 
without  people  saying,  '  Just  look  at  him !  That's  the  cracked 
bookworm  farmer.'  " 

With  frowning  eyes  he  stared  into  the  dusk  of  the  room. 
"  If  my  father  had  been  an  earnest  man,"  he  said,  "  and  had 
sat  with  us  of  an  evening,  he  would  have  seen  what  my  in- 
clinations were,  even  in  those  early  days.  I  would  have  been 
saved  a  weary  way  and  much  distress  and  suffering,  and 
would  have  turned  out  a  good-natured  man  with  sunshine 
in  my  heart  and  eyes.  But  now  I  will  always  have  a  brood- 
ing mind  and  a  brittle  temper.  And  yet  .  .  .  I'll  not  be 
faint-hearted.  I  have  learned  familiarity  with  the  terrible  in 
life  long  ago,  listening  to  Wieten's  stories  and  then  by  Lena's 
death-bed,  and  in  long  and  fearful  times  of  loneliness.  I 
came  close  up  to  the  place  where  there  is  nothingness,  and 
I  came  close  to  God.  What  more  can  be  in  store  for  me? 
A  man  must  just  begin  at  the  beginning  and  believe  in  what 
is  good,  both  in  God  and  in  himself,  that's  the  whole  matter. 
So  I'll  venture  it.  And  if  I  can't  make  use  of  what  I  learn 
because  I  am  too  old,  or  because  I  die  first,  then  I  suppose 
God  will  have  roads  to  build  up  there  in  heaven,  and  shafts 
and  ditches  and  canals  to  dig  in  worlds  still  incomplete,  and 
will  give  me  some  post  as  master  of  a  shaft  or  keeper  of  a 
lock.  I'll  throw  out  my  lines  as  far  as  the  very  stars,  and 
sharpen  my  spade  for  a  piece  of  contract  work  on  the  Milky 
Way.     I'll  venture  it  as  though  I  were  but  sixteen. 

"  Yes,  faith.  I'll  do  it,  I  will.  And  if  I  do  it,  it  will  be  as 
if  the  most  beautiful  and  proudest  woman  .  .  .  Tush!  what 
are  all  the  women  in  the  world  to  me?  .  .  .  My  own  lass,  my 
proud,  bonnie  lass,  will  stand  behind  my  chair  and  will  look 
on  me  with  glowing,  tender  eyes,  and  on  my  book,  and  will 
wait  till   I  have  done  with  it.     And  when   I  have  done  with 


386  JORN     UHL 

it  she'll  laugh  aloud  with  glee  and  speak  of  our  marriage.  And 
here,  close  by  the  Haze  forest,  we  shall  be  married.  Faith!  I'll 
do  it.  It's  worth  the  doing.  And  now  I'll  go  straight  away 
and  ask  her  whether  she'll  agree  to  the  plan." 

And  then,  just  as  he  was,  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  without  a 
thought,  wholly  absorbed  in  his  great  plan  for  the  future,  he 
went  out  of  his  room,  straight  across  the  big  hall,  and  into 
the  little  chamber  where  Lisbeth  Junker  was  lying,  and  saw 
her  bed  in  the  light  of  the  clear  autumn  night  not  far  from 
the  window.  He  grew  a  little  nervous,  in  spite  of  himself, 
as  he  stepped  lightly  toward  her.  She  did  not  stir,  but  looked 
at  him  with  big,  astonished  eyes.  "  Is  it  you,  Jiirgen?  Come 
here."  She  reached  for  his  hand,  made  room  a  little,  and  drew 
him  down  to  her  on  the  edge  of  the  bed.  "  What  is  it  you've 
come  about?  " 

He  sat  down  a  little  stiffly,  and  slowly  unfolded  his  plan  to 
her,  and  was  at  times  a  little  embarrassed  and  again  eloquent, 
and  would  make  a  great  sweep  with  his  hand. 

"  And  now  the  question  is  this,"  he  said,  ''  whether  you  will 
really  have  me,  and  whether  you  will  wait  two  years  for  me." 

She  said,  "  Come  closer  to  me  and  I'll  tell  you."  And  as 
he  obediently  bent  down  to  her,  she  threw  her  arms  around 
him  and  fondled  and  kissed  him,  pouring  out  a  flood  of  words 
of  endearment.  "  You  strange  old  Jorn  Uhl !  You  bookworm 
farmer,  you!  It's  all  the  same  to  me.  Oh,  you  '  clever  Jack! ' 
All  I  want  to  know  is  that  you  love  me.  Come  closer,  Jorn. 
Kiss  me.  Please  kiss  me.  Oh,  I'm  so  haughty  and  cold,  am 
I  not?    You  see  how  haughty  I  am." 

Jorn  Uhl  was  simply  dumb  with  astonishment.  Stupid 
Jorn  Uhl!  He  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  and  stroked  her 
cheeks  and  her  hair,  and  looked  into  her  beautiful  ardent 
face,  and  said,  stammeringly,  "  Just  .  .  .  fancy  ,  .  .  you  lov- 
ing .  .  .  me.  I  ...  I  will  wash  my  hands  seven  times  a  day, 
and,  Lisbeth  .  .  ,  you  must  tell  me  how  I'm  to  behave  and 
what  I  must  do.     For  I  go  about  everything  the  wrong  way." 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

What  need  is  there  for  us  to  go  much  further  with  Jorn 
Uhl's  story?  Have  we  not  gone  through  his  life  as  a  man 
goes  alone  into  some  still  and  homely  little  village  church, 
looking  at  everything  and  treading  lightly  and  cautiously,  and 
then  seating  himself  at  last  awhile  in  silence  opposite  the  altar? 
For  what  more  does  Jorn  Uhl  want  to  make  him  a  man  ? 

What  can  beautiful  Hanover  City  and  its  high  schools 
alter  more  in  his  nature  and  character?  It  will  show  him 
how  one  may  press  his  way  politely  through  streets  thronged 
with  men,  and  how  to  build  locks  and  railways  and  set  up 
cement-works.  But  his  inner  character,  the  core  of  the  man, 
can  no  longer  be  changed  or  modified.  And  that  is  as  it  should 
be.  For  what  more  should  one  desire  of  a  man  than  that  he 
should  humbly  reverence  the  great  mystery  of  human  existence 
and  the  universe,  and  trust  in  and  enjoy  everything  that  is  good? 

There  stands  Jorn  Uhl  on  the  platform  of  the  great  railway 
station,  taking  leave  of  ten  or  twelve  fellow  students,  and  one 
of  them,  a  German-American,  whom  his  father,  a  tanner  in 
Buffalo,  has  sent  oversea,  delivers  the  farewell  address.  With 
the  one  hand  he  holds  his  cloak  close,  for  it  is  cold,  foggy, 
November  weather,  and  chill  draughts  are  passing  through  the 
great  hall.  The  other  hand  is  stretched  out  toward  the  man 
who  is  leaving  them. 

"  Jiirgen  Uhl,  Provost  of  Wentorf,  in  this  moment  the  pic- 
ture of  you  comes  back  to  me,  of  how  you  looked  that  morning 
when  you  first  entered  our  drawing-class.  Your  back  was  bent 
like  a  coal-hea\'er's,  your  hands  were  horny,  and  your  eyes 
hungry.  You  came  up  to  us  frankly  and  gave  us,  one  after 
the  other,  that  horny  hand  of  yours,  and  told  us  briefly  who 
you  were,  whence  you  came,  and  what  was  your  object  in 
coming.  And  from  that  hour  forth  we  were  all  fond  of  you. 
We  took  you  into  our  midst  and  protected  3'ou,  for  we  saw  that 

387 


388  JORN     UHL 

you  were  in  danger  of  coming  into  collision  with  certain  people. 
AVe  found  you  a  room  and  bought  white  shirts  and  collars  for 
you ;  we  persuaded  you  to  send  your  heavy  top-boots  back  to 
the  Haze,  and  we  dragged  you  away  from  your  books  when 
you  had  taken  a  dogged  grip  of  them  and  got  your  teeth  into 
them  as  a  weasel  does  with  a  fork-handle. 

"  But  while  we  were  busying  ourselves  protecting  you  — 
just  fancy  us  protecting  you  —  we  soon  saw  what  was  in  you, 
,and  that  you  were  a  true  descendant  of  those  farmer-folk 
\\\\o  studied  the  sea  and  land  and  stars  for  themselves,  and 
built  dikes  that  held  firm,  and  ships  that  could  buffet  the 
North  Sea,  and  who  kept  their  lips  compressed  till  they  grew 
to  be  ever  so  thin,  and  who  built  themselves  up  a  philosophy 
of  curiosity  and  awe  for  the  world's  secrets,  a  philosophy  that 
any  serious  man  can  get  along  with.  While  we  were  still  bent 
on  protecting  you,  Jiirgen  Uhl,  and  giving  you  a  little  town 
polish,  there  we  found  ourselves,  somehow  or  other,  sitting  at 
your  feet  and  learning  from  you  and  obeying  you.  You  were 
ten  years  older  than  us  in  understanding,  and  twenty  years  in 
seriousness  and  experience.  But  in  spite  of  that  you  treated  us 
as  equals,  and  you  had  kindly  eyes  for  our  stupidity,  and  many 
a  piece  of  foolishness  you  put  a  stop  to.  You  gave  an  ear  to 
what  we  had  to  tell  of  our  experiences,  and  with  a  shrewd  word 
often  broadened  and  enriched  them.  In  short,  you  are  our 
Provost,  Jiirgen  Uhl,  and  our  King." 

Thereupon  the  youngest  of  the  band  pressed  to  the  front. 
He  was  a  clergyman's  son,  from  South  Germany. 

"  I  say,  Dick,"  he  said,  "  what  rubbish  you're  talking.  You 
ought  to  know  that  Jiirgen  can't  stand  such  soft  soap!  " 

"  Just  a  moment,  boys,"  said  Jorn  Uhl,  looking  at  his 
comrades  of  the  drawing-school,  one  after  the  other.  "  You 
know  that  I  have  had  a  long  spell  of  loneliness  and  distress 
in  my  life.  By  nature  and  through  hard  times  I  have  grown 
into  a  slow-going  fellow  who  has  to  haul  every  word  and  every 
gesture  with  rattling  chains  and  buckets  out  of  a  deep  well. 
Even  when  I  was  at  home  there  were  kindly  folk  who  would 
come  up  to  me  and  encourage  me.  You've  read  some  of  Fiete 
Cray's  letters,  and  Thiess  Thiessen's  name  isn't  unknown  to 
you,  and  I've  told  you  of  Heim  Heiderieter,  and  as  for  the  girl 
I'm  going  to  marry,  why,  you've  drunk  her  health  much  oftener 
than  was  good  for  you.     The  encouragement,  then,  that  these 


J  0  R  N     U  H  L  389 

folk  gave  me  you  have  continued,  a  thing  that  was  necessary 
enough  for  me.  If  you  had  made  merry  at  my  expense,  and 
wondered  at  me,  and  held  aloof  from  me,  then  I  should  have 
been  utterly  loncl>'  here,  for  I  would  never  have  offered  you 
my  hand  a  second  time,  But  you  were  kind  and  open  with  me, 
and,  boys,  I  heartily  thank  you  for  it," 

The  train  was  standing  ready,  and  Jorn  Uhl  got  in.  The 
youngest  of  the  party,  the  clerg:yman's  son,  carried  his  trunk 
in  for  him,  and  pressed  up  to  him,  and  said,  "  Mother  writes 
to  me  to  give  you  her  kind  regards." 

This  clerg>'man's  son  had  failed  to  pass  the  final  school  exam- 
ination which  is  prescribed  in  Germany  for  those  who  wish 
to  enter  a  university,  and  for  a  year  it  had  been  doubtful 
whether  there  would  be  one  more  good-for-nothing  clergy- 
man's son  drifting  about  the  world  or  not.  In  the  parsonage, 
away  on  the  banks  of  the  IVIain,  there  had  been  some  bitter 
scenes  between  father  and  son,  and  even  between  husband  and 
wife.  The  mother  had  said,  "  In  our  house  there's  too  much 
praying  and  too  much  outward  holiness.  That  isn't  the  thing 
for  a  healthy  boy ;  and  now,  together  with  the  outward  gar- 
ment that  he  has  taken  a  dislike  to,  he's  going  to  throw  away 
what  is  good  and  everlasting.  Love  and  Loyalty,"  And  the 
father  had  said,  "  Maybe  you're  right,  wife.  We  preachers 
easily  run  into  the  danger  you  speak  of.  Religion  is  a  beau- 
tiful and  delicate  thing,  and  revenges  itself  on  the  man  who 
adopts  it  as  a  profession.  But  if  those  were  your  opinions, 
you  should  have  told  me  so  before.  Instead  of  that  you  have 
kept  giving  him,  behind  my  back,  of  the  money  you  made  with 
your  poultry-yard,  and  he's  spent  it  at  the  fat  publican's,  that 
good-for-nothing  parasite  on  respectable  honest  folk,"  Then 
he  had  been  sent  to  the  drawing-school,  and  had  fallen  into 
the  hands  of  the  long-faced  Frisian  farmer,  who  was  butting 
his  head  into  science  with  the  same  dogged  perseverance  as  a 
steer  butts  the  boards  of  its  stall;  and  gradually  a  clear  idea 
of  the  nature  of  life  began  to  glimmer  up  through  his  muddled 
brain.  Jorn  Uhl  had  been  able  to  send  a  good  letter  to  the 
lad's  father,  whereupon  an  answer  had  come  from  his  mother 
—  an  answer  salted  with  tears.  He  has  still  got  a  touch  of 
restlessness  in  his  blood.  He  will  be  working  a  few  years  later 
under  Jorn  Uhl  in  Holstein.  Then  he  will  go  abroad  into 
the   world.      Of   course!      He    must    needs   convince    himself, 


390  J  O  R  N     U  H  L 

forsooth,  that  the  earth  is  round,  but  after  all  he  will  leave 
Germany  as  one  who  does  it  credit. 

Hence  the  "  kind  regards." 

Now  the  train  is  oflf.  Gusts  of  wind  push  against  the  win- 
dows, shining  rain-drops  trickle  down  the  panes.  In  the  gray 
mists,  away  behind  the  gliding  smoke,  are  seen  the  dim  forms 
of  farms  and  villages,  and  forests  and  heaths.  It  is  the  sort 
of  weather  when  it  does  not  seem  worth  while  either  to  make 
plans  about  life,  or  to  expend  any  sort  of  mental  energy  on  it. 
For  there  seems  no  prospect  that  the  rain  will  ever  cease  or 
the  sun  ever  shine  again. 

But  Jorn  Uhl  and  this  wind  and  rain  are  old  acquaintances. 
This  is  the  same  wind  and  the  same  rain  that  used  to  fly 
over  the  fields  of  the  Uhl  while  he  plodded  along  up  one  fur- 
row and  down  another  behind  his  plough.  He  knows  you 
must  plough  and  plough  even  in  gloomy  weather,  and  one 
must  make  up  one's  mind  to  wait,  for  the  sun  will  come  back 
of  itself.  So  there  he  sits  with  his  hands  on  his  knees,  watch- 
ing the  gliding  drops  and  the  travelling  banks  of  fog,  and 
thinking  now  of  his  boyhood  at  Wentorf,  now  of  Fiete  Cray, 
anon  of  the  tanner  at  Buffalo,  anon  of  Wieten  Penn,  who 
is  sitting  at  home  at  the  Haze,  white-haired  and  bent  with 
age,  and  then  anon  of  his  comrade's  clay-pits.  There  he  will 
now  find  work  and  bread.  And  then  his  thoughts  go  to  Lis- 
beth  Junker  and  his  boy,  who  has  been  living  with  her  for  the 
last  two  years,  eating  at  her  table  and  sleeping  near  her  bed. 
But  as  he  thinks  on  all  this,  a  shadow  rises,  and  his  thoughts 
are  with  his  sister  Elsbe. 

In  Hamburg  he  hurried  through  half  the  town.  Often  he 
had  to  ask  the  way.  At  last  he  came  to  a  part  of  the  town 
that  was  known  to  him,  and  there  he  fell  in  with  a  troop  of 
wandering  school-children.  And  there  was  the  shop-window 
of  the  old  aunt,  and  written  above  it,  "  All  Sorts  of  School 
Stationery,  Sold  by  Ellen  Walter."  He  pondered  awhile.  So 
many  thoughts  were  rushing  through  his  head.  But  seeing 
some  of  the  little  chaps  pushing  in  with  great  eagerness,  he 
went  with  them. 

She  stood  behind  the  counter,  putting  the  boxes  away  without 
looking  up,  and  was  saying,  in  her  refined  and  dainty  way,  with 
that  dear,  sweet,  high  voice  of  hers,  "  Just  a  moment,  please." 


JORN     UHL  391 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  he  said ;  "  please  serve  these  gentlemen 
first." 

Then  she  let  the  box  fall  and  held  out  her  hand  to  him 
over  the  counter  and  blushed,  and  was  full  of  wonder  and 
astonishment,  and  said,  "  Your  little  boy  will  be  out  of  school 
directly,  Jcirn.  .  .  .  What  is  it  you  want.  Tommy?  Two 
penn'orth  of  nibs?  Blotting-paper?  Here,  you  can  pay  to- 
morrow. An  exercise-book  with  lines?  Don't  make  so  many 
blots.  Little  ones,  I  have  no  time  to-day  —  I  have  a  dis- 
tinguished visitor.  Look,  this  great  big  man  used  to  play  with 
me  when  he  v\as  just  your  size.  ...  So,  Jiirgen,  now  we're 
alone.  My  aunt  is  having  her  midday  nap.  Put  your  trunk 
down  here.  .  .  .  \'ou  must  be  hungry.  You  .  .  .  Jorn  .  .  . 
Don't,  Jorn!  .  .  .  Don't  make  such  a  noise.  .  .  .  Jorn!  .  .  . 
Oh,  what  nonsense  you  talk!  " 

"  Now  your  hair's  coming  down." 

"And  .  .  .  Oh,  Jorn,  Elsbe  has  written,  Jorn!  Elsbe  has 
written  a  letter  to  the  Haze.  She's  coming  over  from  America. 
Thiess  is  here  already.  He's  got  his  old  room  again,  and  is 
down  at  the  wharves  for  every  boat  that  comes  in  from  New 
York.  Let  me  go,  Jorn.  ...  I  hear  a  step  I  know.  Do  you 
see?    There's  our  little  laddie." 

"Father!  My  word,  what  a  fright  I  nearly  got!  Is  that 
really  you?  " 

"  Yes,  it's  me,"  said  Jorn  Uhl ;  and  he  knelt  down  and 
stroked  his  child's  fair  hair  and  looked  into  his  bright  eyes. 

"  But,  I  say,  father,  what  do  j'cu  think  of  me  going  to 
school!  Lisbeth  just  simply  carried  me  there,  and  there  I  was! 
.  .  .  Are  you  going  to  stay  with  us?  " 

"  Yes,  always." 

"  AVhat  a  yellow  beard  you've  got,  father!  It  looks  just 
like  the  rje-crops  down  by  Ringelshorn.  Do  you  remember, 
father?  .  .  .  Are  we  going  to  the  Uhl  or  to  Thiess's,  now? 
Lisbeth  says  we're  going  to  Thiess's." 

"  The  Uhl  no  longer  belongs  to  us,  laddie.  We  are  going 
to  the  Haze  first.  Lisbeth,  you  tell  him  ...  I  don't  know 
how  to  set  about  it." 

Then  Lisbeth  Junker,  too,  knelt  before  the  little  lad  and 
said,  with  smiling  mouth.  "  Now.  listen.  Prince.  .  .  .  Shall  I 
tell  you  something?  I  should  like  very  much  to  go  to  the 
Haze  along  with  you  and  father,  but  I'll  tell  you  something. 


392  JORN     UHL 

I  will  only  go  with  you  on  one  condition.  I  don't  like  you 
calling  me  Lisbeth.  I  would  rather  have  you  call  me 
'  mother.'  .  .  .  And  your  father.  .  .  .  He  will  have  to  call 
me  '  dear  wife.'  Do  you  both  agree  to  that  ?  Else  I  won't  go 
with  you." 

Then  the  roguish  glance  he  had  inherited  from  Lena  Tarn 
came  into  the  little  boy's  eyes  as  he  looked  at  his  father. 
"  What  do  you  say  to  it,  father?  Shall  we?  .  .  .  Well,  come 
here,  then !  " 

And  he  threw  his  arms  around  his  mother's  neck. 

Fifty  smutty,  dirty  coal-heavers  observed  the  scene  and 
told  their  wives  about  it  \\  hen  they  got  home.  They  had 
just  left  the  steamers  and  w^ere  going  along  Quay  Street  to 
dinner.  Each  one  had  his  drinking-mug  at  his  side  and  each 
one  was  in  a  hurry,  when  suddenly,  coming  from  the  coal- 
yard  quay,  where,  as  everybody  knows,  the  turf-boats  from 
Burg  and  Kuden  are  wharfed,  they  saw  coming  toward  them 
a  little  man  who  had  been  a  familiar  figure  to  most  of  them 
for  years  past  in  the  streets  about  the  harbor.  He  was 
carrying  a  little  turf-sack  on  his  back,  and  was  stooped  for- 
ward, and  his  face  was  long  and  brown,  and  his  eyes  were 
quick  and  blinking.  Like  swallows  flying  between  the  trees 
in  a  garden  his  eyes  flew  about,  searching  among  the  crowds 
of  passers-by.      Suddenly  he  saw   somebody. 

Paying  no  heed  to  what  people  might  think,  he  let  his 
sack  of  turf  slip  to  the  ground,  and  shouted  in  a  loud  and 
querulous  voice,  "  Fiete!  Dear  old  Fiete!  Fiete  Cray!  Hullo 
there!  .  .  .  That  m.an  there!     With  the  gray  waterproof!" 

There  was  a  stir  in  the  street.  People  stood  still  and  joked 
and  laughed.     Many  wanted  to  help  him. 

"Hullo,  there,  Fiete!  Fiete  Cray,  turn  around,  man!  Go 
and  carry  the  old  fellow's  sack  for  him." 

Then  the  man  who  wore  the  gray  waterproof  turned  around 
and  was  astonished  to  see  all  the  laughing  faces  turned  in 
his  direction.     "  Have  you  chaps  lost  your  senses  or  have  I?" 

"This  way,  Fiete  —  open  your  ej'es.  The  old  fellow  there 
with  the  bag  of  turf." 

The  words  "  bag  of  turf  "  fell  like  a  lasso  over  Fiete  Cray's 
soul  and  took  it  captive.  His  eyes  wandered  over  the  crowd 
and  caught  sight  of  the  little  man,  who  with  one  hand  was 


JORN     UHL  393 

holding  fast  the  bag  that  two  street  urchins  were  tugging  at, 
and  with  the  other  he  was  making  clutches  and  beckoning 
toward  him  as  though  he  were  vainly  trying  to  catch  hold 
of  him.  The  old  Haze  farmer  could  not  utter  a  word.  Fiete 
Cray  ran  up  to  him.  He,  too,  paid  no  heed  to  what  folk 
might  think.  None  whatever.  He  stroked  the  trembling  old 
man's  face  and  picked  up  his  hat,  which  was  lying  on  the 
road,  and  put  it  on  for  him.  "Oh,  you  good  old  Thiess! 
what  a  piece  of  luck  you  saw  me!  Can't  get  along  any  further, 
eh?  It's  gone  to  your  knees,  has  it?  Come,  Thiess,  sit  down 
on  the  sack  for  a  bit."  Then  he  turned  around  to  the  throng- 
ing bystanders.  "  Cientlemen,"  he  said,  using  a  word  he  had 
picked  up  in  America,  "  this  is  Thiess  Thiessen,  turf-farmer, 
from  over  yonder  behind  the  Haze,  and  at  the  present  moment 
he  looks  like  a  crooked  old  dried  turf-sod  himself.  But  my 
name's  Fiete  Cray,  as  you  all  know.  When  I  was  a  youngster 
I  had  business  dealings  with  Thiess  Thiessen,  and  1  and  my 
dogs  would  often  drive  up  with  our  load  of  brushes  and  heather- 
brooms  in  front  of  his  house,  and  out  of  these  visits  sprang 
a  friendship  which,  as  you  see,  hasn't  grown  rusty  with  time, 
although  in  the  meanwhile  I've  been  fifteen  years  on  the  other 
side  of  the  water.  If  these  facts  are  enough  for  you  he  and 
I  have  nothing  against  your  now  taking  yourselves  off  to 
your  midday  repast.  .  .  .  Are  you  a  bit  better,  Thiess?  No? 
Not  yet?  Well,  let's  sit  here  awhile.  .  .  .  We  are  not  taking 
up  any  collection  to-day,  friends.  Just  stand  quietly  where 
you  are  and  have  a  good  look  at  us." 

He  seated  himself  on  the  other  end  of  the  turf-sack  and 
the  crowd  dispersed. 

"  Fiete,  have  you  brought  her  with  you?" 

"  I've  been  a  great  fool,  Thiess." 

"  Tell  me  about  it,  laddie." 

"  I  saw  her  on  board  my  steamer.  I  saw  her  quite  un- 
expectedly. She  was  travelling  steerage  —  she  wouldn't  go 
second-class." 

"  Is  she  alone?  " 

"  She  has  a  little  girl  with  her,  a  little  mite  of  six  or  so 
—  just  as  little  and  dark  and  thin  and  shy  as  herself." 

"  Oh,  deary  me!    And  where  have  you  got  her?  " 

Then  Fiete  Cray  struck  the  turf-sack  with  his  fist  and  said, 
"  As  we  were  landing,  my  eyes  were  everywhere.    Everywhere, 


394  J  O  R  N     U  H  L 

I  tell  you!  That's  the  cursed  way  with  us  Grays,  and  so  I 
lost  sight  of  her.     She  crept  away  somewhere  —  " 

Thiess  Thiessen  sprang  up.  He  got  over  the  difficulty  with 
his  knee  somehow  or  other.     He  stood  straight  up. 

"We'll  go  and  look  for  her,  Fiete,  the  whole  night  —  the 
whole  night.  We'll  go  to  all  the  inns  and  to  the  police-station. 
We'll  ask  for  a  little  maid  with  a  little  child." 

Fiete  Cray  slung  the  sack  across  his  shoulder,  and  said,  in 
a  hopeless  voice,  "  It'll  be  a  difficult  thing  to  find  her  here. 
She  promised  she  would  go  to  the  Haze  with  me.  That's 
what  we  must  hope  for." 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

JoRN  and  Lisbeth  were  walking  along  the  edge  of  the  forest. 
They  had  been  into  town  looking  at  a  house  and  buying 
furniture.  They  were  going  to  be  quietly  married  at  the  Haze 
on  the  day  following  Christmas  Day,  and  then  go  back  to  the 
town  the  same  evening. 

She  clung  so  close  to  him  that  at  the  sturdy  pace  they  were 
going  her  dress  flew  to  one  side  and  caught  his  knee  now  and 
again. 

"  I  was  nearly  over,  that  time,"  he  said.  "  The  snow  is 
smooth  enough  to  bring  one  down."  He  made  her  walk  more 
slowly. 

She  laughed. 

"  Join,"  she  said,  pressing  close  to  his  side  again,  "  I'm  so 
happy." 

"  That's  natural,"  he  said. 

"  How  do  you  mean,  natural  ?  " 

"  Well,"  he  said,  giving  her  a  roguish  look,  "  it  will  soon 
be  Christmas  Eve.  Doesn't  every  child  feel  happy  at  the  thought 
of  the  Christmas  tree?" 

"  Oh,  Jorn,"  she  said,  shaking  his  arm,  "  do  you  think  we'll 
really  be  happy  with  each  other,  and  for  always?" 

"  Not  a  doubt  of  it,"  he  said.  "  You  see  both  of  us  know 
who  it  is  we  are  marrying,  and  that  neither  of  us  is  a  saint. 
And  each  of  us  intends  to  let  the  other  follow  his  own  bent 
and  go  his  own  way.  That's  why  so  many  marriages  turn 
out  failures,  because  the  one  wants  to  compel  the  other  to 
think  and  act  exactly  in  the  same  way  as  himself.  I,  on  the 
contrary,  think  that  each  should  try  and  bring  out  the  other's 
characteristics,  —  of  course,  within  the  limits  of  common  sense, 
—  so  that  each  may  have  a  full,  rounded  individuality  in  his 
helpmate.  What  nonsense  people  talk  about  man  and  wife 
being   like   the   oak   and    the    ivy,    cup    and    saucer,    and   such 

395 


396  JORN     UHL 

like!  No!  Let  them  stand  side  by  side,  like  a  couple  of 
good  trees  of  the  same  stock,  only  that  the  husband  has  to 
take  the  windward  side.     That's  all." 

"  How  well  }ou  put  it,  Jorn !  " 

"  I've  tested  it  with  Lena  Tarn.  She  went  her  way  and  I 
went  mine,  and  we  got  on  first-rate." 

In  silence  they  both  thought  of  Lena  Tarn  who  was  dead. 

"  At  that  time  she  seemed  to  have  been  created  on  purpose 
for  me,"  said  Jorn,  thoughtfully.  "  She  was  young  and  fresh, 
and  of  dauntless  energy.  She  was  no  great  scholar  —  she  had 
not  the  slightest  love  of  books.  She  didn't  even  read  the  news- 
paper. She  used  to  laugh  and  say,  '  I  got  my  reading  over 
when  I  was  at  school.'  About  the  same  time  as  one  sheds 
one's  first  teeth  she  was  a  droll,  delightful  creature.  When- 
ever I  remember  her  and  her  ways,  I  can't  help  thinking  of 
Wieten's  fairj^-stories.  She  had,  as  it  were,  grown  up  out  of 
the  earth  like  a  beautiful,  strong  young  tree,  that  has  learned 
how  to  converse  with  sunshine  and  winds  without  the  aid  of 
teachers  and  schoolmasters." 

"  What  was  she  like  in  other  ways —  I  mean,  as  a  wife?  " 

"Oh!  .  .  .  You  mean  ,  .  .  Well,  just  like  a  child  of 
Nature.  There  came  times  when  she  cried  aloud  for  love,  and 
others  when  she  just  despised  that  kind  of  thing." 

She  clasped  his  arm  with  her  fingers,  and  said  with  down- 
cast eyes:  "  I  feel  sad  at  times,  Jorn,  that  you  always  talk  so 
sensibly  to  me.  Once,  two  years  ago,  that  time  we  were  visiting 
your  comrade's  farm,  you  were  different,  Jorn.  Do  you  really 
love  me  as  much  as  you  did  Lena  Tarn  ?  " 

He  put  his  arm  around  her  and  drew  her  to  him  so  that 
she  stood  close  to  his  breast  and  couldn't  move,  and  looked 
into  her  eyes  with  such  a  glance  that  she  hid  her  face  on  his 
shoulder.  "  Go  home,  Lisbeth,"  he  said,  "  or  else  you'll  be 
catching  cold.     I  am  going  to  take  a  run  up  into  the  village." 

"  You're  going  to  see  if  Elsbe's  there.  Oh,  Jorn,  if  she 
were  only  to  come!     I'm  coming  with  you," 

When  they  reached  the  top  of  the  hill  whence  one  can  see 
far  down  the  road  that  leads  to  Hamburg,  by  way  of  Itzehoe 
into  the  loneliness  of  the  Haze,  there  stood  Fiete  Cray,  gazing 
into  the  distance.  But  they  found  no  one  else  there,  and  went 
home. 


JORN     UHL  397 

Of  an  evening  they  would  sit  together  in  a  rather  depressed 
mood,  and  not  have  much  to  say  to  one  another.  Wieten 
would  knit  away  at  a  pair  of  child's  socks,  and  e\ery  evening 
would  place  a  pair  of  soft,  warm,  felt  slippers  behind  the  big 
porcelain  stove.  Thiess,  too,  would  regularly  hang  the  large 
brass  bed-warmer  on  the  hook  near  the  door.  No  one  ever 
asked  for  whom  these  things  v\ere  being  kept  in  readiness. 
Wieten  had  grown  even  more  silent  in  these  last  years. 

When  Thiess  said  to  her,  "  You  ought  to  read  a  little, 
Wieten,"  she  used  to  answer,  "  I've  gone  through  b.ucli  a 
great  deal,  and  seen  so  much  of  life,  why  should  1  read,  then, 
or  want  to  listen  to  what  people  say?"  And  when  Thiess 
asked  her  to  tell  them  some  of  her  stories,  she  would  say, 
"  Such  things  all  lead  to  nothing.  After  all,  we  human  beings 
can  change  nothing."  She  sat  there  thinking.  She  would 
sit  and  think  awhile,  and  then  raise  her  head  toward  the 
window,  and  then  go  out  into  the  dark.  Those  inside  heard 
her  light,  slow  steps  in  the  hard,  new-fallen  snow,  and  they 
knew  that  she  was  going  her  usual  round,  and  peering  out  as 
far  as  the  starlight  would  allow  her,  to  see  whether  the  child 
were  yet  coming.  But  no  one  said  a  word,  and  no  one  looked 
up  when  she  came  in  again  and  sat  down  wearily  near  the 
big  stove. 

Soon  afterward  they  would  all  go  to  rest.  Thiess  and 
Jorn  went  into  the  room  they  shared  together.  "  It's  all  over 
with  my  sleepy  fits,"  the  old  man  would  say  to  Jorn.  "  By 
the  time  I  had  reached  the  sixties  they  were  things  of  the  past, 
and  now  sleeplessness  is  beginning.  Lie  down,  Jorn,  laddie, 
I'll  walk  up  and  down  awhile." 

Thiess  Thiessen  suffered  more  and  more  from  this  sleep- 
lessness with  increasing  years,  so  much  so  that  it  was  impossible 
for  him  to  lie  still.  W^hen  he  was  seventy  he  used  to  wander 
up  and  down  between  the  bed  and  the  window  half  the  night 
long,  halting  awhile  near  the  window  at  each  turn  and  gazing 
out  into  the  night.  In  these  three  weeks  before  Christmas  this 
habit  of  night-wandering  and  standing  at  the  window  had  had 
its  beginning. 

"  Do  you  think  she'll  come,  Jorn?  If  she  doesn't  come  for 
Christmas,  she'll  never  come  at  all." 

"  And  if  she  does  come,  what  then?  " 

After  awhile  Thiess  said:   "  I'll  not  worry  at  all  about  that; 


398  JORN     UHL 

if  she  only  comes.  .  ,  .  Do  you  hear?  The  east  wind's  getting 
up.    What  if  she  were  on  the  road  now,  the  poor  little  soul !  " 

Jorn  Uhl  stood  near  the  other  window  and  answered :  "  In 
times  gone  by,  when  I  was  still  very  young,  I  thought  there 
were  only  two  kinds  of  things  that  could  confront  a  man  — 
things  that  can  be  bent,  and  those  that  can  be  broken^  But 
afterward,  in  the  sad  years,  I  found  out  that  there  is  a  third 
kind  —  things  that  come  and  stand  for  a  moment,  or  maybe 
for  whole  years,  before  one,  like  some  great,  wild,  black 
monster  raising  its  cruel  paws  with  claws  dead  and  white. 
What  is  one  to  do  against  it?  Turn  aside?  Flatter?  Lie? 
There's  no  sense  in  that.  There  it  stands,  right  in  front  of 
you,  and  it  is  mad,  Thiess,  mad.  It  has  no  understanding. 
It's  a  cruel,  wild  being.  It's  no  good  attacking  it,  for  it's 
much  the  stronger.  Well,  face  to  face  with  such  a  monster, 
with  such  an  overpowering  fate,  what  alternative  is  there? 
Only  one.  We  must  say  to  it,  '  Whether  you  kill  me  or  let 
me  live,  whether  you  devour  me  and  those  I  love  or  not, 
whether  you  unsettle  my  understanding  with  your  everlasting 
threats  and  the  sight  of  your  claws  or  not,  be  that  as  you 
choose ;  '  but  one  thing  I  tell  you,  it  all  happens  in  the  name 
of  God  in  Whom  I  put  my  trust,  and  firmly  believe  that  His 
cause  —  which  is  the  good  —  will  triumph,  in  me  and  every- 
where. Do  you  see,  Thiess?  That's  how  I  stand  toward 
Elsbe's   fate." 

The  old  man  went  backwards  and  forwards,  and  went  to 
the  window  and  gazed  out  into  the  sky  for  a  long  time. 
"  Jorn,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "  do  j'ou  really  think  that 
everything  that  so  happens  —  all  the  sad  things  that  you  and 
I  have  lived  through,  all  that  Wieten  Penn  went  through  in 
her  youth,  and  the  horrible  things  they  brought  about  there 
on  the  Uhl,  and  my  sister's  wretchedness  —  do  you  think  that 
all  that  has  a  good  purpose?  I  mean,  do  you  think  there's  any 
sense  in  it?  " 

"  Thiess,"  said  Jorn,  "  if  one  doesn't  believe  that,  where 
shall  an  earnest,  thoughtful  man  get  courage  enough  to  go  on 
living?  See,  one  can  clearly  perceive  that  all  created  things 
are  put  under  the  ban  of  sorrow  and  distress.  Throughout 
all  creation  there's  a  restless  something  surging  up  and  down, 
that  puts  one  in  mind  of  simmering  water.  But  yet  one  can 
see  that  there's  sense  in  all  this  bubble  and  toil  and  trouble. 


J  0  R  N     U  H  L  399 

The  evil  only  sinks  after  a  great  struggle,  and  the  good 
wrestles  and  strives  laboriously  to  get  to  tiie  top.  Some  mys- 
terious force  is  constantly  in  action,  pushing  and  shoving  and 
trying  to  create  order  like  the  shepherd  and  his  dogs  amongst 
the  flock.  And  happy  the  man  who  hears  the  gentle  call  of 
the  shepherd  away  through  the  storm  and  lends  God  a  helping 
hand  in  His  laborious  task." 

"  Hark!  "  said  Thiess,  "  what's  that?     Did  you  hear  it?  " 
"  It's  the  frost  crackling  amongst  the  branches  of  the  ash." 

They  waited  and  waited,  and  she  did  not  come.  Yet  all 
of  them  had  the  feeling  that  she  was  coming,  and  on  the 
road.  Her  hungry  soul  had  stretched  out  its  arms  toward 
home,  in  longing  for  those  who  were  so  dear  to  her.  Her 
spirit  was  passing  through  all  the  old  paths  at  the  Haze  and 
its  presence  was  felt  by  those  who  were  waiting  for  her  there. 
Thiess  Thiessen  went  up  secretly  into  the  corn-loft  and  stood 
there  a  long  time  in  the  bitter  cold,  gazing  through  the  win- 
dows far  away  toward  the  southeast.  In  the  night  old  Wieten 
started  up  crying,  "  She's  standing  in  the  snow  and  hasn't 
the  strength  to  go  further!"  Jorn  Uhl  was  lost  in  thought, 
and  started  as  if  in  fright  when  Lisbeth  spoke  to  him.  Ficte 
Cray  was  again  away  on  the  roads,  asking  everywhere  along  the 
highway  if  an}'  one  had  seen  a  young  woman,  slight  and  pale 
looking,  with  thick  dark  hair,  and  with  a  little  girl  at  her  side. 
But  he  came  back,  his  mission  unaccomplished. 

Thus  it  came  to  pass  that  they  had  to  keep  a  cheerless 
Christmas.  .  .  .  Put  out  the  love-light  in  thine  eyes,  Lisbeth 
Junker!  Stretch  not  thine  hand  toward  thy  beautiful  bride, 
Jorn  Uhl.  Thiess  Thiessen  and  Fiete  Cray,  ye  lovers  of  gossip 
and  genial  talk,  be  on  your  guard  lest  your  tongues  grow 
canty! 

There  came  a  cold  mist,  and  with  an  idle  wind  it  drew 
thin  gray  shrouds  over  all  the  land.  The  sun  stood  like  a 
dull  whitish  spot  that  looked  about  the  bigness  of  a  house, 
far  away  in  the  sky.  And  as  it  drew  by,  the  mist  left  parts 
of  its  loose  tissue  hanging  on  every  tree  and  every  hedge  that 
it  passed.     There  lay  the  whole  land  covered  with  hoarfrost. 

Stiller  and  stiller  everything  grew.  The  many  thousand 
voices.  Life  and  rain  and  all  the  cries  and  sounds  that  usually 
fill  the  air  of  this  solitude,  held  their  peace.    The  birds  clustered 


400  J  O  R  N     U  H  L 

noiselessly  together  near  the  houses,  the  rooks  flew  mute  to 
their  shelter  for  the  night,  so  afraid  and  full  of  presentiment 
did  all  Nature  feel.  Folk  that  generally  paid  no  heed  to  the 
unceasing  stir  and  whisper  of  the  woods  and  skies  and  fields 
were  now  amazed  at  the  silence  that  had  come  over  everything. 
When  two  people  met  on  the  road  they  stood  still,  looked  at 
each  other,  made  no  move,  then  lifted  their  fingers  and  whis- 
pered, "  Listen!  " 

The  fir-trees  on  the  forest  borders  stood  straight  and  slim, 
clad  in  silver  brocade  from  head  to  foot  like  brides  ready 
for  the  wedding,  and  behind  them  in  drooping  veils  of  white 
stood  waiting  the  great  procession  of  bridesmaids.  And  this 
fairy  spell  filled  them  half  with  the  feeling  of  its  beauty  and 
half  with  a  shuddering  fear.  Each  of  them  gazed  at  its  neigh- 
bors with  eyes  full  of  wonder  till  the  dim  light  of  day  faded 
and  waned.  But  when  it  was  evening  the  whole  of  their 
eerie  glory  changed.  They  beheld  each  other  wrapped  in  funeral 
shrouds,  shrouds  all  cold  and  stiff,  and  trimmed  with  a  wealth 
of  fine,  white  lace.  .  .  ,  Shuddering  fear  held  sway  over  all 
things.  .  .  .  There  lay  the  village  all  glittering  and  new, 
like  a  Christmas-box  that  had  been  laid  in  this  soft  white 
valley,  like  a  pretty  toy  in  its  case  of  cotton  wool.  And  it 
was  as  though  giants  came  out  of  the  woods  from  away  by 
the  sea  and  squatted  on  the  hills  around  about,  and  began 
to  play  with  the  white  houses  and  the  fair  white  trees,  and 
mixed  the  houses  up  together,  and  pushed  the  people  hither 
and  thither,  and  brought  them  together  in  couples,  and  then 
set  children  by  their  side  and  made  them  grow  old,  and  brought 
them  to  the  churchyard,  and  dug  a  little  hole  in  the  wide  white 
snow.  And  these  games  of  the  giants  had  lasted  thousands  of 
years  without  the  folk  in  the  village  noticing. 

Yes,  but  people  no  longer  believe  such  things  because  they 
have  no  longer  eyes  to  see  them.  And  they  have  no  longer 
eyes  to  see  them,  because  they  no  longer  believe  them.  But 
wondrous  things  have  not  been  done  away  with  in  the  world 
merely  because  men  shut  their  eyes  and  say  they  see  nothing, 
or  because  they  open  their  eyes  very  wide  and  declare  they 
see  everything. 

Wonderful  things  happened  that  Christmas  night,  when 
there  was  a  danger  that  the  haggard  wife  of  that  proud  Harro 
Heinsen,  —  who  at  this  moment  was  leaning  drunk  against  a 


JORN     UHL  401 

house-wall  away  in  some  street  or  other  in  Chicago,  —  a  clunker 
that  this  wife  of  his,  I  say,  might  after  all  miss  her  way  home; 
for  she  had  made  up  her  mind  never  to  see  Haze  Farm  and 
those  who  lived  in  it  again.  She  had  gone  about  seeking  a 
shelter  away  up  there  in  Schleswig,  and  had  encountered  a 
last  disappointment.  It  wore  out  what  was  left  of  her  spirit. 
She  wandered  off  southwards  with  her  child,  and  crossed  the 
Eider  at  Friedrichstadt.  Traversing  endless  bare  highways, 
she  passed,  with  her  child's  hand  clasped  in  hers,  through 
snowed-in  villages,  not  with  the  aim  of  reaching  home,  but 
driven  and  pushed  and  in  a  dream.  The  image  of  Haze 
Farm  and  the  people  who  dwelt  in  it  flitted  ceaselessly  before 
her  half-closed  eyes,  and  she  had  perforce  to  follow  it. 

Dusk  came  on,  and  the  evening  mists  in  heavy,  loose  masses 
crept  over  the  land,  with  unseen  hands  building  up  the  miracle 
of  the  white,  dead  world.  Here  and  there  stars  shot  up  as 
in  anger,  piercing  the  mist,  and  a  cold  bluish  light  spread  over 
the  fields. 

"  How  much  further  is  it,  mother?" 

"  Not  much  further,  my  child." 

"  Can't  we  sit  down  here  ?     My  feet  are  hurting  me  so." 

"No,  we  mustn't.  Do  you  see  tiie  light  yonder?  That's 
where  we're  going." 

"  Do  kind  people  live  there?  " 

"  Yes,  they're  kind  people.  ...  I  cannot,  I  cannot  go  to 
them.     Oh,  where  shall  I  go  to  with  my  child  ?  " 

Then  a  man  came  by  and,  as  he  passed,  said,  "  Where  are 
you  going  to,  little  woman?" 

"  I  ...  I  am  going  a  long  way." 

He  came  up  closer  to  her,  "  Oh,"  he  said,  "  you're  the 
daughter  of  Greta  Thiessen.  You're  Jorn  Uhl's  sister.  They'll 
be  glad  enough  you've  come,  lass.  They've  been  looking  for 
you  everj'where." 

She  said  nothing,  but  thought  to  herself,  "  I'll  be  able  to 
get  away  from  him,"  and  so  went  along  with  him. 

"  Now,  come,"  said  the  man,  ''  here's  a  short-cut.  You  know 
the  way  past  the  Odel  Krug,  don't  you  ?  You  must  have  come 
that  way  often  enough  when  you  were  little." 

She  walked   painfully  and   slowly  along  beside  him. 

"  The  child  is  tired,"  he  said.  "  Come  here,  little  one.  That's 
it.     Don't  be  afraid.     I'll  carry  you.     Hi!    Won't  Jorn  Uhl  be 


402  J  O  R  N     U  H  L 

glad,  and  Thiess  will  lose  his  slippers  thrice  to-night.  And  the 
others!  Why,  It's  Christmas  itself  I'm  bringing  home  to 
them." 

He  kept  on  carrying  the  child  in  spite  of  the  way  it  made  him 
pant.  At  the  cross-road  he  put  her  down,  saying,  "  It's  hardly 
a  quarter  of  an  hour's  walk  now.  Seest  thou,  lass?  They 
have  a  light  burning  in  the  doorway  and  in  both  the  rooms 
for  thee." 

He  left  her  and  went  toward  the  village.  She  had  not 
recognized  him,  nor  did  she  ever  see  him  again,  although  she 
lives  at  the  Haze  to  this  day.     But  she  has  never  forgotten  him. 

The  evening  was  come.  Children  had  come  over  from  the 
village  to  Haze  Farm,  as  was  their  olden  custom,  and  had 
beaten  blown-up  bladders  with  sticks  and  sung  songs  to  the 
monotonous  noise,  and  got  presents  of  nuts  and  apples  and 
cakes;  and  thrice  did  Thiess  Thiessen  go  up  the  ladder  into 
the  loft  and  cut  a  piece  from  the  bacon  that  hung  beneath  the 
sloping  roof. 

And  Lisbeth  Junker  sent  the  others  out  and  lit  the  Christ- 
mas tree  that  Fiete  Cray  had  brought  from  the  woods,  and 
thought  sadly  to  herself,  "  It's  only  for  little  Jiirgen's  sake. 
We  grown-up  people  will  be  thinking  of  Elsbe  and  sha'n't 
be  able  to  take  much  pleasure  in  anything." 

But  when  she  had  laid  the  new  school-books  for  little  Jiir- 
gen  beneath  the  Christmas  tree,  and  had  hidden  his  picture- 
book  and  his  first  pair  of  skates  under  them,  she  cheered  up 
a  little,  and  then  a  little  more,  and  brought  the  shirts  she  had 
made  for  Jorn. 

"  This  pipe  is  for  Thiess,  and  the  two-and-sixpenny  Atlas 
into  the  bargain.     What  else  could  one  give  Thiess  Thiessen  ?  " 

"  I've  only  one  great  wish,  Lisbeth,"  said  Thiess,  ''  and 
that  is  that  Elsbe  and  her  child  might  be  standing  beneath 
this  Christmas  tree  to-night.     Hist!  .  .  .  No,  it's  the  wind." 

"  Now  I'll  call  the  names." 

First  of  all  came  the  little  boy  with  his  hand  in  that  of  his 
father.  He  was  a  grave  and  thoughtful  lad,  and  remained 
quiet  even  when  he  saw  the  tree.  He  stood  awhile  in  front 
of  it,  and  it  was  easily  seen  that  in  his  heart  he  was  rejoicing. 
But  he  didn't  show  it  except  by  his  sly  glance  at  Lisbeth 
Junker  when  he  stepped  up  to  her  and  stood  at  her  side.  He 
looked  at  the  books  and  asked,  "I   say,  who  are  they  for?" 


J  O  R  N     U  H  L  403 

Then  he  busied  himself  in  looking  through  his  possessions, 
and  the  lights  played  over  his  fair  hair. 

Thiess  and  Wieten  had  never  before  seen  a  Christmas  tree 
in  their  life,  and  had  no  clear  idea  of  what  it  meant.  Fiete 
Cray  began  walking  up  and  down  the  room  and  humming 
to  himself,  a  habit  that  loneliness  had  taught  him.  Jorn  Uhl 
stood  and  stared  at  the  tree,  and  the  lights  that  were  to  have 
shown  the  beautiful  face  of  his  betrothed  showed  him  nothing 
but  the  darkness  of  this  hour.  Mute  and  helpless  they  stood 
there,  feeling,  "  We  can't  keep  Christmas,  Put  out  the  lights 
on  the  Christmas  tree,  Lisbeth ;    the  light  hurts  us." 

In  that  silent  and  painful  moment,  when  two  beautiful 
proud  eyes  were  brimming  full  of  tears,  they  suddenly  heard 
a  noise  outside,  as  if  two  or  three  people  were  moving  about 
under  the  window.  A  thrill  of  terror  ran  through  them, 
and  they  stood  as  if  fixed  to  the  spot.  Their  hearts  beat 
violently,  trembling  in  a  great  fear  between  hope  and  terror 
at  the  supernatural.  Jorn  Uhl  with  a  great  effort  rushed  to 
the  door  and  went  out.  He  strode  across  the  great  middle 
room  and  dashed  open  the  door. 

Out  there  in  the  snow  he  saw  what  he  had  hoped.  His 
voice  hardly  obeyed  him,  as  he  said,  "  Is  it  you,  Elsbe?  Is  it 
you.'^ 

"Oh!  Jorn.  ...  Is  that  you,  Jorn?  This  is  the  way  I've 
come  back." 

"  Come  inside,  child.  Come  in.  That's  it.  .  .  .  Let  me 
take  the  little  one.     That's  the  way.  .  .  .  Now,  come." 

"  Me,  Jorn?  .  .  .  Jorn,  what  do  I  want  here?  .  .  ." 

"Come,  Elsbe,  I  say.  Now  do!  .  .  .  Lisbeth,  come  here  a 
moment.     She's  tired." 

Thiess  stood  in  the  doorway  and  kept  saying,  "  My  little 
Whitey!"  stretching  his  hand  out  toward  her,  but  unable  to 
move  from  the  spot. 

"  Oh,  Thiess,  Thiess!  How  often  I've  told  you  you  do 
everything  topsyturvy!  .  .  .  Oh,  my  God!  .  .  .  Wieten,  your 
hair  is  white." 

"Here,  let  her  sit  in  this  chair,  Lisbeth!  Wieten,  where 
are  the  slippers?  " 

She  sat  in  the  warm  chair  near  the  big  stove  weeping,  and 
Wieten  knelt  before  her  and  pulled  off  her  wet  shoes.  Lis- 
beth undid   her  jacket  that  was  all  encrusted  with   hoarfrost, 


404  J  O  R  N     U  H  L 

and  Jorn  tried  to  take  off  the  child's  cloak  and  couldn't,  while 
Fiete  Cray  took  hold  of  Thiess  Thiessen,  and  said,  "  Here's  a 
chair  for  you,  Thiess.    Sit  down." 

The  child  was  blinking  at  the  Christmas  tree.  "  Are  we 
going  to  stay  here,  mother?  " 

"The  poor  child!"  said  Thiess,  "the  poor  child!"  He 
sprang  up  and  got  a  plateful  of  cakes  and  filled  the  little  one's 
hands. 

Jorn  looked  from  the  child  to  his  sister.  She  lifted  her 
head  and  looked  at  him,  and  suddenly  the  vision  of  the  whole 
miser}^  of  his  youth  and  of  hers  flashed  before  him.  He  clenched 
his  hands  and  cried  with  a  wild  gesture,  "  Curse  my  father 
for  this!  " 

Then  Lisbeth  jumped  up  and  ran  toward  him,  weeping  and 
crying,  "Oh,  Jorn,  do  not  forget  me!" 

"  Leave  me,  leave  me,  Lisbeth!  "  he  cried.  "  When  I  think 
of  how  my  mother's  life  was  ruined,  and  all  the  peaceful  happy 
da)S  made  sordid  and  filled  with  misery  by  the  treatment  she 
got,  I  .  .  ." 

She  fondled  and  coaxed  and  kissed  him,  and  begged  him 
to  rejoice  that  his  sister  was  back  home  again.  "  She  thinks 
that  you  are  angry  with  her!  " 

"  What?  "  he  cried.  "  I  ?  I  angry  with  her?  "  And  he  ran 
up  to  her,  this  broad-shouldered,  austere  man,  and  knelt  before 
the  broken  figure  of  his  little  sister,  stroking  her  hand  and  call- 
ing her  all  the  pet  names  that  he  thought  he  had  long  forgotten, 
and  saying,  "  My  father  is  to  blame,  and  I  am  to  blame.  .  .  . 
Am  I  not,  Wieten?  .  .  .  Thiess,  you  tell  me.  Am  I  not  to 
blame,  too?"  Then  he  spoke  great  things  about  the  future. 
"  You  shall  live  like  a  princess  here  at  the  Haze,  and  no  one 
shall  touch  or  harm  you,  and  old  Wieten  will  always  be  by  you, 
and  Thiess  will  talk  to  you  until,  at  least,  you'll  have  to  laugh 
again." 

She  let  it  pass  over  her  unheeded.  She  had  laid  her  hand 
upon  her  brother's  hair  and  wept  herself  quiet.  Gradually 
her  breath  became  heavy  and  deep,  and  her  weeping  more  sub- 
dued and  wearier.  She  sank  down  like  a  traveller  who  has  put 
his  heavy  burden  on  the  earth  beside  him,  and  sits  down  awhile 
on  some  stone  by  the  wayside. 

Then  Wieten  and  Lisbeth  went  out  to  prepare  the  beds. 
At  last  the  woman  who  had  returned  home  and  her  child  lay 


J  O  R  N     U  H  L  405 

under  the  roof  of  the  Maze  in  deep  and  heavy  sleep.  Jorn 
Uhl  stood  at  the  window  with  Lisbeth  Junker. 

"  There  you've  had  a  proof  of  it,"  said  he.  "  A  part  of  my 
soul  has  grown  hard  and  turned  to  ice." 

And  she  repeated,  "  Don't  look  away  over  my  head,  Jorn. 
Come  quite  close  and  look  straight  at  me.  You  must  be  able 
to  see  that  I  can  help  you,  and  will  help  you,  as  far  as  in  me 
lies!  " 

He  looked  down  at  her  without  a  word,  and  as  he  looked 
upon  her  and  she  held  up  her  face  with  clear  eyes  toward  him, 
it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  were  looking  into  some  wide  valley 
in  which,  between  the  green  of  the  meadows  and  the  gloom 
of  beautiful  trees,  lay  deep  and  tranquil  lakes.  His  heart 
grew  lighter  within  him.  He  said,  "  I  must  always  come  to  you, 
Lisbeth,  when  I  get  these  gloomy  fits,  mustn't  I,  lass?" 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

Years  came  and  went. 

Jorn  Uhl  took  over  the  management  of  his  comrade's  fac- 
tory, and  helped,  besides,  at  the  building  of  the  great  canal 
that  goes  right  through  Germany,  and  which  we  all  are  so 
proud  of.  He  built  locks,  too,  on  the  Stor  and  the  Buhnen, 
and  on  the  isles  of  Sylt  and  Rom,  and  in  winter  taught  draw- 
ing and  mathematics  in  a  college  for  working  men.  So  people 
came  in  time  to  look  up  to  him  as  a  man  whose  words  and 
knowledge  could  be  thoroughly  relied  on.  The  boy  who,  long 
years  before  in  the  school-sergeant's  little  room,  had  said,  "  It's 
all  one,  Thiess,  whether  I  become  Provost  or  not,  as  long  as 
I  learn  something.  And,  mark  you,  I've  made  up  my  mind 
to  learn,"  —  this  boy,  I  say,  had  had  to  begin  twice  over  from 
the  very  first  rung  of  the  ladder.  But  life,  after  all,  is  long 
enough  to  make  oneself  into  something,  if  one  only  has  faith 
enough  and  a  sturdy  will. 

But  he  didn't  come  through  it  all  without  a  few  scars. 

As  long  as  he  lives,  Jorn  Uhl's  character  will  show  traces 
of  rifts  and  flaws  here  and  there.  Although  his  wife  knows 
his  nature  well,  and  although  she  is  so  blithe  and  strong,  and 
so  loving  toward  him,  she  has  never  been  altogether  able  to 
smooth  out  these  flaws,  the  remnants  of  evil  days  gone  by. 

It  was  some  short  time  after  the  birth  of  her  first  child. 
Heim  Heiderieter,  who  was  among  the  guests,  had  made  a 
somewhat  indiscreet  joke  x'vhich  set  the  room  in  a  roar.  As 
the  spirits  of  the  party  became  more  and  more  boisterous,  Jorn 
Uhl  left  the  room.  Dame  Lisbeth  missed  him  at  once,  and 
went  seeking  all  through  the  house  for  him.  She  found  him 
at  last  standing  outside  in  the  dark,  and  ^^'ent  to  him  and 
asked,  "What  are  you  standing  out  here  alone  for,  Jorn? 
Why  don't  you  come  in  and  sit  with  the  others?"  At  first 
she  could   get   nothing  out   of   him ;     gradually,    however,   he 

406 


J  0  R  N     U  H  L  407 

admitted  that  all  this  inerrymalcinj^  and  laughter  was  intoler- 
able to  him :  it  brought  too  many  old  pictures  up  before  his 
mind.  But  he  promised  to  pull  himself  together  again  and 
go  back  into  the  room,  and  she  wasn't  to  say  anything  about 
it.  She  put  her  arms  around  him  ;  spoke  affectionately,  soothed 
and  fondled  him,  and  went  inside  again.  By  and  by  he  fol- 
lowed her,  and  sat  there  at  first  taciturn  and  moody,  listening 
with  an  attentive  face  to  what  was  said.  After  awhile  he 
lifted  his  glass  and  pledged  one  of  the  guests  with  half-em- 
barrassed looks  of  kindness,  and  then  he  told  a  short  story,  and 
then  he  glanced  over  at  his  wife.  Lisbeth's  eyes  were  bright 
with  tears  as  she  nodded  her  pleasure  and  recognition.  And 
now  he  found  her  helping  him,  he  succeeded  in  being  blithe 
and  jovial  along  with  the  others. 

It  would  often  chance,  too,  that  he  would  come  back  home 
from  some  journey  or  other  downhearted,  silent,  and  tired, 
as  if  he  were  half-frozen.  And  then  when  he  heard  the  sound 
of  children's  pranks  and  laughter  inside  as  he  entered  the 
house,  he  would  turn  as  stiff  as  Lanky  Sott  of  yore  under 
the  leak  in  the  spo<it.  Then  they'd  look  at  each  other  and 
run  off  to  their  mother  in  the  kitchen,  and  after  a  swift,  eager 
council  of  war,  they  would  come  back  into  the  sitting-room, 
and  keep  very  grave  and  quiet;  after  awhile  one  would  come 
up  with  some  sore  spot  to  be  kissed,  and  another  for  help  of 
some  sort,  all  of  them  treating  him  as  thoughtfully  as  ever 
they  could.  Then  the  first  one  smiled  ;  then  the  second  would 
risk  a  smile,  too.  Then  they'd  make  off  to  the  kitchen,  shouting: 
"  I  say,  mother!    father's  thawing!  " 

Then  he  would  shake  his  head  at  thein,  and  smilingly 
threaten  them,  and  brighten  up,  and  the  sky  would  be  clear 
again. 

Years  came  and  went. 

One  day  the  spirit  of  unrest  came  over  Heim  Heiderieter, 
and  he  determined  to  visit  the  country  around  Ringelshorn 
and  Wentorf.  He  arrived  without  inishap  or  adventure  at  the 
first  houses  of  St.  IVIaricndonn,  on  the  edge  of  the  heath,  and 
saw  a  sailor-lad  of  the  Imperial  Navy  standing  there,  dressed 
in  a  white  duck  suit,  and  stuffing  the  heather  he  had  cut  into 
a  sack.  His  mother,  a  haggard  and  overworked  little  woman, 
was  raking  the  remnants  together. 


4o8  J  0  R  N     U  H  L 

"Where  do  you  hail  from,  seaman?"  asked  Helm. 

"  Oh,"  said  the  sailor,  "  I've  been  out  in  the  China  Seas  on 
a  man-o'-\var,  and  have  just  got  four  weeks'  leave  of  absence." 

Heim  sat  himself  down  awhile  on  the  slope  of  the  hill,  and 
listened  awhile  to  the  sailor  yarns.  At  last,  when  Heim 
thought  of  getting  under  weigh  again,  a  thought  struck  him, 
and  he  asked,  "  What's  your  name,  then?  " 

"  Stoffer  Cray,"  said  the  sailor. 

Heim  thought,  "Well,  now,  if  that's  a  good  beginning!" 
and  went  on  his  way. 

When  he  reached  the  first  houses,  he  was  in  doubt  as  to 
which  road  he  should  choose,  and  whether  he  would  find  the 
Goldsoot  if  he  kept  along  the  Heide  hills.  Up  to  then  he 
had  never  approached  the  Soot  from  this  side  of  the  country. 
So,  at  the  first  house  he  came  to,  he  made  inquiries  from  a 
man  who  was  standing  before  the  door  trimming  a  post  for 
a  fence.  The  latter  turned  around  and  looked  toward  the 
brownish  hills  that  rose  away  over  beyond  the  village,  and 
said :  "  That's  a  simple  matter.  You  go  down  there  past  that 
farmhouse  on  the  left.  Then  you  come  to  that  tree  on  the 
right;  ye  see  it,  eh?  Why,  then  you  strike  the  foot-track, 
and  go  along  it  to  where  it  forks,  straight  across  that  field 
of  rye.  Then  you  go  on  straight  ahead,  and  make  a  bee-line 
for  that  gray  horse  there  that's  browsing  up  there  at  the  top 
in  the  heath.  Do  ye  see?  Then  you  go  along  the  ridge, 
close  to  the  edge,  keeping  well  to  the  right,  till  you  come 
across  a  big  valley  that  slopes  down  to  the  marsh.  In  that 
valley  3'ou're  pretty  sure  to  find  the  Goldsoot." 

Heim  Heiderieter  nodded,  as  though  taking  it  all  in,  although 
all  these  directions  were  mere  Dutch  to  him ;  and  on  taking 
leave  of  the  man,  he  asked,  "  What's  your  name?" 

"  Stoffer  Cray,"  said  the  man. 

Heim  gave  a  friendly  nod,  and  went  on,  thinking,  "  Well, 
I'm  blest!  Now,  I  just  Avondcr  what's  going  to  happen  next." 
He  managed  to  get  through  the  upper  village  all  right,  with- 
out getting  entangled  in  talk  with  anybody,  and  made  a  straight 
course  for  the  gray  horse  that  was  standing  up  in  the  heath; 
but  as  lie  went  he  fell  a-dreaming,  after  his  usual  fashion,  and 
tramped  along  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  heath  at  his  feet. 
When  he  awoke  and  looked  up,  lo!    the  gray  horse  was  gone! 

"  Of  course,"  said  he;   "  there  you  are,  now!     Not  a  sign  of 


J  0  R  N     U  H  L  409 

him.  Strange  thing  that  Nature  seems  to  get  out  of  gear  as 
soon  as  1  start  to  go  anywhere.  That  was  the  gray  steed  of 
Woden."  He  trusted  the  good  spirits  and  pressed  forward 
to  the  heights.  Standing  still  at  times  and  looking  around,  and 
thinking  all  sort  of  things  about  the  objects  he  saw,  as  was 
his  wont,  he  found  himself  at  last  in  the  middle  of  young  oak 
thickets,  but  had  not  the  faintest  notion  of  how  he  had 
got  there.  "The  Goldsoot's  not  to  be  found,  anyhow!"  he 
said.  "  They've  hidden  it  away  somewhere.  They  don't  want 
me  to  see  it,  and  are  on  for  a  little  fun  at  my  expense."  liut 
he  didn't  lose  heart  over  it,  but  went  on  whistling  merrily 
and  giving  a  laugh  now  and  again.  "  \'ou  sha'n't  spoil  my 
good  humor;  I'm  hanged  if  you  shall,"  he  said,  and  found 
it  pleasant  enough  up  there  on  the  heights,  stumbling  through 
the  heath  and  the  oak  thickets,  with  occasional  glimpses  out 
over  the  wide  marsh.  Now  and  again  he  turned  around,  for 
it  seemed  to  him  as  though  some  one  were  calling  out  behind 
him.  He  thought,  "  Of  course,  that's  some  more  of  their 
mockery  and  pranks.     Ill  bet  my  life  on  it!  " 

And  now  he  really  did  hear  light,  swift  steps  behind  him, 
and  suddenly  turned  around  in  terror.  There  stood  a  bare- 
footed, yellow-haired  lad  who  was  saying,  "  I'm  to  tell  Heim 
Heiderieter  that  he's  on  the  wrong  track.  He  has  to  go  in  this 
direction!"  and  he  shot  ahead  and  entered  a  narrow  foot- 
path that  wound  through  the  waist-high  brushwood  of  young 
oaks.  Heim  walked  behind  in  silence,  wondering  that  the 
lad  never  ran  into  anything.  Not  a  single  branch  was  moved, 
not  a  single  dry  leaf  was  rustled  as  he  passed.  So  the  lad 
led  him  down  a  steep  path  into  the  little  valley  that  sloped 
into  the  marsh.     "  Here  is  the  Goldsoot,"  he  said. 

"Eh?"  said  Heim.  "How  do  you  know  I'm  looking  for 
the  Goldsoot?  " 

"  My  father  sent  me  here,"  said  the  boy. 

Heim  looked  at  him  distrustfully.  There  was  something 
so  fresh  and  frank  in  the  lad,  and  yet  something  quite  awk- 
ward and  new,  as  though  he  had  been  a  root  a  moment  or 
so  ago,  and,  just  to  meet  an  emergency,  had  for  a  time  been 
changed  into  a  human  being.  Heim  hoped  to  catch  him  stum- 
bling, and  said,  "  What's  your  teacher's  name?  " 
Brodersen." 

"  Do  you  see?  "  said  he.    "  That's  not  true.     Hermann  von 


4IO  JORN     UHL 

Rhein  is  his  name,  and  he's  an  old  schoolmate  of  mine.  I'm 
not  so  stupid  as  other  people  think,  my  lad.  Now  just  tell 
me  straight  out  what  you're  after." 

The  boy  laughed,  and  dipped  his  bare  toes  into  the  water 
of  the  Soot.  Heim's  eyes  opened  wide  with  expectation,  and 
he  thought  to  himself,  "  Now,  he'll  spring  in  and  nothing  more 
will  be  seen  of  him." 

*'  Why,  the  teacher  you  mean,  he's  away  to  Brunsbiittel,"  he 
said,  as  he  drew  his  foot  out  of  the  water  and  waited  till  the 
mirror  was  placid  again.     "  Now  I  can  see  the  frog,"  he  said. 

"  What  frog?  "  said  Heim,  and  he  knelt  down  on  the  edge. 

"  There's  a  gray  frog  in  the  Soot.  See,  there,  on  the 
bottom !     He's  sitting  on  the  moss." 

"  So  he  is!  "  said  Heim.  "  That's  the  first  time  in  all  my 
born  days  that  I've  seen  a  gray  frog.     Let's  get  him  out!  " 

The  boy  laughed.  "  I  think  it's  a  dead  one,"  he  said,  "  and 
its  color's  faded." 

"What?"  said  Heim,  "a  faded,  dead  frog?  Well,  if  that 
doesn't  beat  everything!  "  He  looked  at  the  boy  distrust- 
fully, observing,  "  There  are  stupider  boj^s  than  you  in  your 
school,  I  should  say.     Eh,  youngster?" 

"  You're  right  there,"  said  the  boy. 

Heim  got  up  off  his  knees.  "  Just  show  me  if  you  know  the 
tables  yet?     Now,  how  much  is  once  seven?  " 

The  boy  solved  it. 

"  Hm!  "  said  Heim.  "  You've  managed  to  hit  it.  .  .  .  Now, 
you'd  better  go.  Thank  you  for  coming  with  me.  And  here 
are  a  couple  of  nickels  for  you." 

"  Father  says  I'm  not  to  take  money." 

"What?  I  should  say  you're  not  overrich  by  the  look  of 
you.  Eh?  Suppose  you  folk  down  there  haven't  got  more 
bawbees  than  me,  have  you  ?  You  pay  your  debts  with  col- 
ored pebbles  and  mica  quartz,  don't  you?  .  .  .  Gad!  I  verily 
believe  there's  something  uncanny  about  you  after  all.  Just  tell 
me,  so  as  to  make  sure,  what  you  had  to-day  for  dinner." 

"  Beans  and  bacon,"  said  the  boy,  grinning  and  showing  his 
teeth. 

"  Well,  I  grant  that  sounds  human  enough." 

The  boy  jumped  up  and  ran  away  up  the  hill-slope. 

"Heigh!"  shouted  Heim  after  him,  "just  tell  me,  laddie, 
have  you  seen  a  gray  mare  that  was  said  to  be  about  here?  " 


JORN     UHL  4ii 

"  A  gray  mare?  "  said  the  boy.  "  What  gray  mare?  Why,  it 
isn't  a  gray  mare  at  all.  It's  a  big,  bare  sand-patch.  Sec! 
there  it  is.     It  only  looks  like  a  gray  mare  from  a  distance." 

Heim  Heidcricter  stood  gazing  first  at  the  sand-patch  and 
then  at  the  boy,  who  was  now  trotting  away  over  the  heath. 
"  Strange  thing,"  he  said,  "  that  it's  always  me  who  has  such 
odd  experiences.  Inhere  was  something  eerie  about  that  boy, 
I'm  sure  of  it." 

He  went  down  into  the  valley  again,  and  laid  himself  in  the 
long  gray  grass  beside  the  small  clear  pool. 

It  was  not  long  before  he  heard  footsteps  approaching  from 
down  the  valley,  and  saw  a  man,  still  in  his  prime,  somewhere 
in  the  forties,  with  hair  and  beard  of  the  hue  of  rye-straw, 
and  oval  face,  and  eyes  wonderfully  deep  and  true.  Half- 
scholar,  half-farmer.  Suddenly  he  saw  it  was  Jorn  Uhl,  and 
sprang  to  his  feet. 

After  they  had  done  shaking  each  other's  hands,  they  lay 
down  in  the  grass,  one  on  each  side  of  the  Goldsoot,  and  began 
talking  about  old  times.  They  had  not  seen  each  other  for 
two  years. 

"Old  Wieten's  dead,"  said  Jorn;  "you  knew  her,  didn't 
j'ou : 

"Why,  man,  I  should  think  I  did!  Do  you  know  the  sort 
of  life  they  used  to  lead  over  there  at  Haze  Farm  ?  Thiess 
would  sit  between  the  table  and  the  stove,  deep  in  the  geog- 
raphy of  East  Asia,  with  his  feet  propped  up  against  the  tiles. 
And  then  he  v\ould  pitch  yarns  about  what  he  had  been 
reading.  But  the  old  chap  hasn't  been  farther  away  from 
the  Haze  than  the  next  village  these  ten  years,  never  since 
Elsbe's  return.  Wieten  used  to  sit  by  the  stove  darning  and 
knitting,  just  as  she  used  to  do  at  the  Uhl  when  she  sat  between 
you  and  Fiete  Cray." 

"  How  do  you  come  to  know  all  that?  "  asked  Jorn. 

"  Oh,  many  a  chat  I've  had  with  old  ^Vieten  Pcnn.  She 
had  a  most  wonderful  store  of  knowledge  in  that  old  head  of 
hers.  She  knew  all  the  thousand  and  one  things  that  have 
happened  these  fifty  jears  past  in  the  little  triangle  that  lies 
between  this  quiet  pool  and  the  old  town  over  yonder  and 
the  church  spire  of  Schonefeld,  and  she  had  a  vivid  recollec- 
tion of  all  of  them.  That  interpreted  us,  Jorn  Uhl;  yes.  more 
than   all   old   Thiess's  Manchurian   lore.     She  was  a  woman 


412  JORN     UHL 

who  always  kept  things  pretty  much  to  herself,  though.  She 
had  had  to  huild  a  high  wall  around  that  fantastic  world 
within  her,  because  stupid  people  laughed  when  they  got  a 
glimpse  of  it. 

"  And  that's  the  reason  why  many  deep  and  earnest  people 
are  so  taciturn,  Jorn.  But  to  me  she  sometimes  opened  the 
door  and  let  me  see  the  house.  You  know,  Jorn,  what  it's 
like  —  a  good  Old  Saxon  farmhouse,  a  little  low  in  the  roof, 
and  wn"th  many  dark  nooks  and  corners,  but  trusty  and  true. 
.  .  .  What  do  you  say  to  Elsbe,  Jorn?  " 

"  No!   what  do  you  say?  " 

"  I  should  have  thought  she  would  have  married  Fiete  Cray. 
And  he  asked  her,  that  I  know.  But  she  was  against  it.  Do 
you  know  what  she  said,  Jorn  ?  " 

"What!  do  you  mean  to  say  you've  been  talking  about  it 
with  her?" 

"Yes!  why  not,  man?  We're  old  friends,  aren't  we? 
*■  You  see,  Heim,'  saj's  she,  '  he's  a  Cray,  and  they're  not  the 
most  reliable  people  in  the  world,  the  Crays.  And  what's 
more,  I  don't  need  him:  I've  got  enough  to  mother  already.' 
.  .  .  She's  mistress  of  Haze  Farm,  Jorn,  and  manages  it  better 
than  Thiess  ever  did;  and  lays  special  stress  on  keeping  six 
or  seven  good  milch-cows.  Thiess  has  to  obey  her,  and  even 
likes  to  do  so.  About  Manchuria  he  can  say  what  he  likes, 
even  before  her ;  that's  his  special  domain  where  nobody  in- 
terferes with  him.  But  when  he  wants  to  get  on  to  other 
topics  and  talk  about  human  life  and  God  and  the  world,  then 
he  has  to  wait  till  I  come,  and  he  can  go  outside  with  me. 
In  summer  we  sit  on  the  embankment  by  the  edge  of  the  Haze, 
in  winter  we  go  into  the  cowshed.  .  .  .  It's  a  pity,  Jorn,  that 
Elsbe  never  marries;  she  would  have  made  one  of  the  right 
sort  of  wives  who  keep  always  their  husbands  and  children 
warm." 

Jorn  Uhl  gazed  away  before  him.  "  She  is  content,"  he 
said,  "  and  so  is  Fiete  Cray.  What  he  dreamed  as  a  boy  has 
all  come  true.  He's  now  in  charge  of  the  Uhl,  and  can  see 
the  low-roofed  little  cottage  where  he  w-as  born.  He  has 
debts  enough,  almost  as  many  as  I  once  had ;  but  he  bears 
them  more  lightly  than  I  did  ;  and  the  new  railway  line  has 
been  a  great  lift  for  him.  His  business  in  all  sorts  of  odds 
and  ends  —  in  timber  and  firewood  and  coals  and  sand  and  what 


JORN     UHL  413 

not  —  is  flourishing.  IV'Iy  heart's  sore  when  I  think  of  the  clean, 
neat  old  farmyard,  and  how  it  looks  now,  littered  about  with 
everything;  and  I'm  glad  the  old  house  is  no  longer  standing. 
Of  a  Sunday  he'll  sometimes  drive  over  to  the  Haze  and  drink 
a  cup  of  coffee  there,  and  chat  with  Elsbe  and  the  old  man. 
I  believe  things  will  go  on  so,  and  they'll  gradually  grow  old 
without  noticing  it,  and  at  last  they'll  lea\e  it  all  and  go 
away." 

"  You've  had  a  hard  life  of  it,  Jorn ;  I  often  wonder  what 
you  yourself  think  about  it  all." 

"  How  would  you  like  to  write  the  story  of  my  life,  Heim? 
But  perhaps  it's  hardly  the  right  stuff  to  make  anvthing  out 
of?" 

"  Your  life,  Jorn  Uhl,  has  been  no  commonplace  one.  Your 
youth  was  still  and  quiet,  decked  out  with  all  sorts  of  fantastic 
pictures.  As  you  grew  up  you  were  lonely,  and  in  your  lone- 
liness, without  any  one's  help,  you  struggled  manfully  with 
Life's  enigmas,  and  although  you  only  managed  to  solve  a 
few  of  them,  the  trouble  was  not  in  vain.  You  went  away 
to  fight  for  the  land  that  lies  around  these  water-rills  of  ours, 
and  you  grew  hard  in  fire  and  frost,  and  made  progress  in  the 
most  important  thing  of  all  in  life,  jou  learned  to  distinguish 
the  value  of  things.  You  learned  what  woman's  love  was 
in  all  its  intensity,  and  that  is  the  second  highest  that  Life 
can  give  us.  You  laid  Lena  Tarn  in  her  grave,  and  your 
father  and  brothers,  and  you  looked  human  misery  in  the  face 
and  learned  humility.  You  fought  against  a  hard  and  hostile 
fate  without  succumbing,  and  won  your  way  through  at  last, 
although  you  had  to  wait  many  a  day  for  help.  You  worked 
your  way  into  science  with  clenched  teeth  and  dauntless  will, 
at  an  age  when  many  a  one  is  thinking  of  retiring  on  his 
income,  and  although  building,  ditching,  and  surveying  have 
now  been  your  work  and  delight  for  many  a  year,  you  haven't 
grown  one-sided,  but  still  take  an  interest  in  all  the  land  that 
lies  beyond  the  reach  of  your  surveying-chains,  and  still  bother 
yourself  with  the  books  written  by  a  certain  friend,  Heim 
Heiderieter  by  name.  I  wonder  what  stories  one  ought  to 
tell,  Jorn,  if  such  a  deep  and  simple  life  isn't  worth  the 
telling." 

Jorn  Vh\  looked  at  him  with  kindly,  thoughtful  eyes. 
"  What  you  say  sounds  well,"  said  he.     "  And   if  I  were  to 


414  J  O  R  N     U  H  L 

talk  matters  over  with  you,  you  could  put  many  a  thing  in  order 
for  me,  that  I  have  a  feeling  is  still  lying  about  meaninglessly. 
It  alvt^ays  seems  to  me  as  though  there  is  a  big  rent  in  my 
life." 

"  I  know,"  said  Heim,  stretching  his  arm  out  over  the  Gold- 
soot  toward  him.  "  Look,  Jorn.  If  you  had  had  the  kind, 
clear-headed  care  of  a  mother,  and  had  gone  smoothly  and 
evenly  into  the  study  of  science,  you  think  your  life  would 
have  had  a  better  course;  while  now,  as  you  say  quite  rightly, 
there  is  a  break  in  it.  You've  got  the  feeling  as  though,  some- 
time or  other,  years  ago,  you  got  on  to  the  wrong  track, 
and  as  if  you  were  still  upon  a  by-path,  and  could  only  catch 
sight  of  the  road  you  ought  to  be  travelling  from  afar.  But, 
I  tell  you,  Jorn,  —  you  can  ask  any  earnest  man,  —  there's 
something  in  every  life  that  doesn't  exactly  tally,  that's  out 
of  tune,  so  to  say,  and  do  you  know  v.hy?  If  it  were  exactly 
in  tune  the  sound  would  be  too  thin.  And  if  we  were  always 
to  go  the  way  that  mother  would  choose  for  us,  we  would 
turn  out  dull,  monotonous  beings.  We  all  have  to  take  roads 
heavy  with  sand,  Jorn,  before  we  get  breadth  and  depth." 

"  Yes,"  said  J5rn  Uhl,  "  to  have  faith  is  everything." 

"Right!     That's  everything!  " 

"  Heim,  Heim,"  said  Jorn,  "  there  come  years  when  it  isn't 

easy. 

Heim  reached  out  over  the  Goldsoot  again.  "  I  know  what 
you're  thinking  of,"  he  said.  "  But  after  all,  help  came  at  the 
right  time,  didn't  it?  Wieten  stood  by  you,  and  your  little 
son's  laughter  sounded  in  the  farmyard.  Then  the  door  of 
the  manse  opened  to  you  —  the  broad  green  door  with  the 
brass  knocker.  You  got  new  heart  there.  Then  came  death 
and  served  you  hand  and  foot,  and  smoothed  your  way  for 
you.  And  then  came  a  proud  and  bonnie  girl  and  walked  beside 
you,  and  played  marbles  with  you  on  the  Rugenberg.  Then 
came  your  studies,  and  a  fresh  breeze  blew  into  your  life." 
Jorn  nodded,  and  said,  "  You  know  everything." 
"  I  know  but  little,  Jorn,  and  I  don't  like  those  who  try  to 
make  out  they  know  everything;  but  it's  a  fine  thing  to  be 
able,  sensibly  and  cleverly,  to  see  good  meanings  hidden  in 
things,    even    in    the   clouds    that    pass   over    the    face   of    the 

skv. 

"  I  can't  express  myself  like  you  do,"  said  Jorn,  "  but  I'm 


JORN     UHL  415 

glad  that  I  am  of  the  same  opinion.  When  I  was  a  boy,  I 
fixed  up  a  chest  and  a  room  for  myself  according  to  my  fancy, 
and  used  to  think  them  the  very  hub  of  the  universe,  and  from 
there  I  spied  out  upon  God  and  the  world,  and  felt  myself 
on  equal  terms  with  both  of  them.  But  the  older  I  grow  the 
more  ignorant  1  am,  and  the  greater  is  my  reverence  and 
wonder." 

"  You  are  right,"  said  Heim.  "  It's  a  mistake  to  indulge  in 
too  much  talking.  One  should  make  things  clear  by  deeds, 
not  by  words.  But  as  we  both  of  us  have  a  stretch  of  work 
behind  us  already,  there  is  no  harm  in  our  talking  about  it. 
After  the  battle  the  soldier's  allowed  to  tell  his  comrades  how 
strokes  were  dealt  and  strokes  were  parried.  Now  I'm  off. 
Where  are  you  going  to?" 

"  I  have  been  inspecting  a  lock  in  Brunsbiittel,"  said  Jorn 
Uhl,  "  and  now  I'm  going  over  to  the  Haze  on  foot.  Kind 
remembrances  to  your  wife  and  children,  Heim!  " 

"  The  same  to  yours,  especially  the  second  eldest  —  a  bonnie 
little  lass,  Jorn." 

"  When  you  come  to  see  us,  mind  you  don't  tell  either  her 
or  her  mother  that!  " 

They  went  up  the  valley  to  the  heath  road. 

"  And  if  I  were  to  tell  the  story  of  your  life,"  said  Heim, 
"what  title  ought  I  to  give  the  book?" 

Jorn  stood  still  and  said  gravely,  "  My  wife  once  proposed 
'Crafty  Jack'!" 

"There's  some  sense  in  that,  Jorn,  upon  my  word!  Oh, 
these  women,  Jorn!  But  it's  wrong,  without  a  doubt.  Every- 
thing they  say  is  only  half-true,  Jorn.  They  see  things  flat; 
even  an  egg  looks  flat  to  them,  because  they  only  look  at  things 
from  one  side." 

"  There's  something  true  in  it,  though,  Heim.  I  don't 
know  whether  it's  because  I  had  no  guiding  hand  in  the  most 
critical  years.  It's  not  been  an  easy  matter  for  me  to  find  the 
right  track.  I  have  the  feeling  that  I  have  often  gone  long 
roundabout  ways  when  it  was  quite  unnecessary." 

Heim  shook  his  head.  "  All  of  us  who  didn't  follow  others 
and  swear  by  them,  but  sought  to  understand  things  for  our- 
selves, have  that  feeling." 

"  Well,"  said  Jorn,  "  if  the  title  I  suggested  is  no  use,  find 
me   another   good    old    German    name,    and    say   when    you've 


4i6  JORN     UHL 

finished  your  book,  '  Although  his  path  led  through  gloom 
and  tribulation,  he  was  still  a  happy  man.  Because  he  was 
humble  and  had  faith.'  But  don't  say  too  many  wise  things, 
Heim.    We  can't  unriddle  it,  after  all." 


THE    END. 


DATE  DUE 

i 

■ 

- 

CAYLORD 

rKIHTCOIN  U.S.A. 

PT26n  R42J613  1905 
Frenssen,  Gustav,  1863-1945 
Joern  Uhl. 


yC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

III  ii||iii|iiiir"  ■  ■■■ 


AA    000  638  978 


1210  00213  3039 


